


But love is blind (and lovers cannot see)

by myzticbean



Series: Speak low, if you speak of love [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blackwall creepin', Canon Compliant, Cullen blushes like a schoolgirl, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inquisitor & Dorian BFF, One-Sided Attraction, Smut, Solas is a cockblock, Solas is toppy, Strong Female Characters, no Tresspasser spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myzticbean/pseuds/myzticbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellana Lavellan was almost entirely certain that the world was out to get her, and that she was going to die alone in the wilderness --likely eaten by the huge bear hot on her heels. Why hadn't she listened to the hunters when they were teaching evasive maneuvers? </p>
<p> <br/>Wherein Ellana gets roped into the Inquisition (reluctantly), but she finds real companionship on her journey. Mostly canon-compliant, no Trespasser spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy it, and please let met know if you see any issues or just want to chat. I appreciate constructive criticism.

 

Ellana Lavellan was almost entirely certain that the world was out to get her, and that she was going to die alone in the wilderness --likely eaten by the huge bear hot on her heels -- and not even fondly remembered, if she were going to be entirely honest.

She panted heavily, clutching the stitch in her side as she stumbled half-blinded by sweat and blood through the forest. Furious roars echoed at her back as she crashed through the underbrush, heralding her most gruesome death.

Why hadn't she listened to the hunters when they were teaching evasive maneuvers, Ellana lamented sadly. Her mana had depleted to alarming levels, and the singed and stinking fur clogging up her senses highlighted the realization of just how little she could do to protect herself.

It didn't help that her head wound was bleeding like a stuck nug. She opened her mouth on a gasp and choked on the heavy iron of her blood. The ground was quaking, and as she tried to leap gracefully over a fallen tree, one of her foot wraps caught on the log and she was abruptly taken to the ground.

She didn't even have time to be embarrassed. Within seconds, the bear lurched to its hind legs, clearly deriving some petty vindictive pleasure before he chose to rip into her soft belly with sharp claws.

“No!” she cried out, rather ineffectually if she were prone to moments of reflection, which she certainly was not while seconds away from being eaten by a bear. She closed her eyes in her final moments.

Of course, that meant she missed what happened next because of her stupid closed eyes. Bright flares of light, the wounded gurgle of the enraged bear and the ground-shaking thump as it fell to the wooded floor were pretty much all she could make out in the split second between blinks.

She opened her eyes, tentatively glancing around the empty forest. Hushed quiet had settled in the bloody aftermath, birdsong momentarily silenced and the dead bear only inches from her captured foot.

“Hello?” she called, reaching down to untangle her foot wrap. Stubbornly it held fast to the dead bark, and with a sigh of discouragement, she fumbled in her robes for the small pocketknife her cousin had gifted her on Ellana's last naming day.

As she sawed halfheartedly through the bindings she glanced around the eerily silent clearing.

“I mean, if you wanted to come out now, I would be okay with that,” Ellana called out helpfully. “I'll even give you a handshake or something if you're a shem, I hear they like that.” There was a soft rustling to her right, but no other voice answered her sweetly melodic...shout.

“Alright, fine, I'm sure our Keeper would even throw in a pelt or something. I mean, I'm probably not worth a whole lot, but I am awfully appreciative of the help.”

“You quite talkative, aren't you?” came the amused voice of a man to her left as he stepped into sight. She had just finished destroying her foot wrap, and stood up with a disgruntled sigh as it flopped limply around her ankle.

“You wouldn't be the first to say so, hahren,” Ellana answered, gingerly testing the bleeding wound on her forehead. She hissed with pain.

Focusing instead on the disheveled appearance of the mage in front of her, she squinted as she surveyed him. He stood casually, his staff gripped comfortably across the front of his body and cradled in his right hand. While his clothes weren't indicative of any particular wealth, his staff was obviously of high quality. She found his face oddly blurry for a moment, but she had the impression of a lot of hair and pretty blue eyes before she found herself glancing away shyly.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said, scuffing her bare foot in the forest detritus. Ellana could feel her dark hair slipping loose from her braid, artfully adorned with sticks and leaves. Her patched robes were tattered and dirty, and she had lost her training staff in her mad rush from the bear.

She signed a little more heavily of the thought of having to track it down before she returned to the camp. Her Keeper would _not_ be happy if she had lost it for good.

“You seem woefully unprepared to be out here alone, da'len,” the man responded, and though he did not raise his voice, clear disapproval rang in the clearing between them.

Ellana felt her temper snap dangerously close to the surface as a shiver of ice frosted her breath, but clenched her teeth against the rude words she wanted to say. Instead, she swallowed hard, and while she could not smile at him politely, she inclined her head while she angled her face away. “As you say, hahren.”

She busied herself by brushing the dirt away from her robes, uncomfortably aware of his close regard though he did offer any further reprimands.

“Well, if you don't want a reward I'm going to go now,” Ellana said, starting to edge away.

“What was it you offered? A handshake?” he mused, and if Ellana had known him a little better, she would have said he sounded like he was laughing at her. As it was, his face was still somewhat blurry. Ellana wondered if she needed glasses.

“Ah, yeah, sure. I mean, I know shems love that sort of thing. Always touching hands and faces,” Ellana said with all the scoff she could muster with her young little heart. It was quite a bit of scoff.

“And do not the Dalish touch hands and faces?” the man inquired, and now he definitely sounded amused.

“I guess,” she answered, but she didn't sound very confident even to her own ears.

The man muffled a cough and moved a little closer to the clearing, though he started strapping his staff to his pack at his back. Ellana tried not to stare too much, but she hadn't met many men outside of those in her clan, especially strangers. She felt the faintest prickle of unease. He wasn't Templar, not with the staff. Everyone knew Templars loathed mages.

But as he moved closer, his eyes once again captured her attention even if she couldn't make out the rest of his features, and she felt the tension in her shoulders ease. They looked kind.

She offered him another small smile, holding her hand out in the fashion she had seen the humans do. She wasn't positive she offered it correctly, as confirmed when he reached out and gently turned her hand to the side before moving it up and down in a single shake. Ellana laughed in delight.

“I've never had a handshake,” Ellana grinned.

“And I've never shaken the hand of a young Dalish elf after saving her from a rampaging bear,” the man said gently, the corners of his eyes creasing in what Ellana was fairly sure was an answering smile. She wondered what kind of magic he had that allowed his features to blur outside of the Fade.

“I must go look for my staff now,” Ellana said after a moment, reluctantly pulling her hand free. She was sorry to release his hand from hers. She would have liked to practice her handshake again.

“Do you require assistance?” He sounded cultured to her admittedly novice ear, so Ellana figured he was probably someone important. She hadn't met any city elves, but she imagined they might sound similarly.

“No, hahren,” she said, shrugging casually. “I'm close enough to my camp that it won't take long now.” She looked down at the dead bear at her feet. Flies were already starting to gather despite the coolness in the air. “You want this thing? It was your kill, fair and square. Though, I did do that little patch right there,” she added proudly, pointing to a small scorch mark on its muzzle.

“Invaluable,” he said dryly. “But no, if your hunters want the remains, they are welcome to it. I do not have the proper tools for a kill this large.”

“We could use it,” Ellana said softly. She stared at the man for a moment longer, before turning away.

“It is normally custom to exchange names during a handshake,” he spoke suddenly after she started moving away. She paused indecisively, glancing over her shoulder.

“I'm...Ellana,” she finally answered, not sure why she could feel a bright flush stain her cheeks. She rubbed at her cheek, wincing when it came away tacky with her blood.

“Ellana,” he repeated quietly. Ellana let a heartbeat pass, and then another.

“Won't you tell me your name, as well?” she asked. She couldn't decide whether to turn and face him, but again some strange shyness seemed to leaden her limbs.

“Names have great power, Ellana,” he finally said. “I have been called many things, and will be called many more things. Remember me simply as the hahren you met that rescued you from a bear in the woods.”

Without any fanfare, he melted away into the woods without a backwards glance. What a strange man, she pondered fitfully as she moved in the opposite direction towards her abandoned staff and waiting clan.

 

She really had some of the worst luck, Ellana lamented woefully as she raced through the caverns and the spit hissing of large, carnivorous spiders sounded perilously close. She tossed flames blindly and the sticky roasting of discharged ichor sizzling in the fire added to the wet, moldy smell of the tomb.

“It had to be spiders,” she whimpered as the slick of the rocky floor threatened to send her careening into a sturdy looking wall.

“Go away, go away, go away, _ew!_ ” she shrieked as a sailing ball of glowing ichor barely missed her head as she skidded around a corner.

She put on an extra burst of speed as she finally caught sight of the entrance to the cavern and the promise of sunlight and open air. She went tumbling uncontrollably down the crumbing steps of the ruin, firing off another wild fireball at the lunging spiders as they followed her from the mouth of the cave.

She sent up a firewall as she slid painfully on her back down the remaining steps, the snapping pincers bare inches from her feet.

A icy blast darted forward overhead, freezing the spiders in place, and a whirlwind of ice sent daggers through the remaining arachnids. They quickly decided a retreat to the safety of the cavern might be in order. She sent one final blast of flames and a smoking spider curled up in to a tight ball in its death throes.

She tilted her head back in tired relief, trying to catch sight of the mysterious assistant. Instead, she just saw wrapped feet and tight beige leggings step into her line of sight.

“And here I find you once again, Ellana,” came the purring amusement from overhead.

She gasped and tried to roll over to sit up sharply, and all she got for her troubles was a woozy sense of disbelief and a raging headache. “You!” she fumbled, rubbing at her eyes, though it did not bring his face any further into relief.

“I am,” he responded, and there was a small rustling as he moved closer to squat next to her. She stared at him in amazement, his face still somewhat out of focus except for the gleaming recognition in those bright blue eyes.

This close to the shoreline, the monotonous lapping of waves at the shells and rocks filled in a somewhat awkward silence on her behalf.

“Sometimes I thought I had dreamed you,” she admitted quietly at last. She pushed a few lose strands of dark hair away from her face. She grimaced at the cuts on her hand from the rough stone, wiping them fitfully on her cloth pants.

“I would have thought the bear carcass would have been enough proof,” he answered, still squatting next to her while he glanced out towards the water.

She briefly considered pushing herself to her feet but decided against it. The aches in her back and legs hinted she'd regret it, but she didn't want to waste her last healing potion just yet. Goodness knows with her luck she'd encounter hoards of wolves on her way back. She was immediately horrified by her thoughts, quickly muttering a prayer of good luck.

The man stared at her in confusion, but that damned amusement still lingered at the corners of his eyes.

“What were you doing in the cave, Ellana?” he asked, and she shivered at the sound of her name on his tongue.

“I was looking for something,” she said, rubbing a hand across the back of her neck.

“And did you find what you were looking for?” he asked silkily. Ellana had never quite understood what that meant. Now she knew.

“...I don't see how that is any of your business,” she answered stiffly, turning her face away from his considering glance. She couldn't meet his eyes.

“I helped you once more. I don't see why you hesitate to answer this simple question,” he murmured.

“I had it under control,” she snapped, hunching her shoulders unconsciously. She didn't want him to see her like this after so many years. She was vain enough to have imagined meeting her mysterious rescuer again under much different circumstances. Romantic circumstances, maybe. Or at least, less embarrassing circumstances. Instead, she couldn't have appeared more like the teenager she really was, and the disappointment made her snap at him angrily.

But all he did was raise his hands in a placating manner, which made her all the more irrationally angry.

She tried to swallow the tightness in her throat. “I'm sorry, hahren. I thank you for the help. Again.”

“No, da'len, no apologies necessary. I've overstepped,” he said coolly.

“No,” she sighed tiredly. “It's fine. And yes, I did find what I was looking for, but it's probably not useful for what I wanted.”

Another silence fell between them, somewhat more stilted than the first meeting. Ellana regretted all of her life decisions; but this ridiculous quest had brought him into her life again, however briefly. She just wished she wasn't feeling so damn awkward.

“Would you like to come back to camp with me?” she finally blurted out, a flush staining the tips of her ears peeking through her braid.

“I...don't think that would be wise,” he answered slowly, and there was real regret coloring his voice which soothed some of the sting of rejection.

“Do you come from a feuding clan?” she asked softly, brushing another stray strand from her face. It was windy so close to the water.

“I do not,” he said stiffly, and now there was a definite coldness to his tone.

“Oh.” She coughed slightly in discomfort. “I suppose I should leave, then.” But she hadn't stood to move away, and he did not edge back. The icy damp from the stones was starting to seep through her thin pants, and she was vaguely grateful that the cloth was dark enough to hide the wet patch.

“I did not mean to drive you away with my rudeness,” he said, as close to an apology as she imaged he ever came. “I thought you were in need of help when I approached. I hadn't realized it was you until I was closer.”

Ellana smiled, scrunching her shoulders up in a half shrug. “I seem to have a knack for finding trouble. At least, that's what my Keeper says,” she laughed.

The man stared at her, strangely intent. “Our shared experiences would speak the truth of this,” he said with vague amusement. There was some sadness, or maybe bitterness, that colored his words, but Ellana could not understand why.

Ellana had dreamed of meeting him again, girlish fantasies of falling into comfortable conversation, some coy flirtation, a brush of her hand on his arm. Instead, she sat with coltish legs splayed in front of her, twisting the hem of her tunic in her hands, too shy to approach but unwilling to leave.

He finally shuffled a little closer, as if realizing some of the awkwardness.

His knees creaked in sharp dismay at the movement.

Ellana desperately tried to muffle inappropriate giggles, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth. “I hear the cold of the sea is not good for the elderly,” she finally managed to croak through her laughter, attempting a serious expression.

At his horrified silence, she lost it. She threw her head back in her laughter, almost falling backwards in her mirth. She clutched her sides in wild laughter, a trickle of tears on her cheek cooling the flaming blush.

“H-h-hahren, your f-face,” she finally managed to stutter out through bursts of giggles.

“I see,” he finally said, sighing in mock disappointment. “Kids nowadays have no respect.” The grin he shot her betrayed the lie of his words.

She finally managed to control herself, wiping at the tears staining her cheek.

She froze when she felt his hand swipe over her other cheek, gently gathering up the moisture on his fingertips. Her eyes shot up to his face, watching him though he avoided her gaze. She couldn't speak, the feel of his warm hand pressing to the soft skin of her face.

She shuddered slightly, lips parting. Her tongue darted out, swiping over her full bottom lip absently. His eyes, gleaming in the hazy sunlight of the day, immediately dropped to watch the action.

He finally drew his hand away, shifting to stand and move away from her.

“You should return to your people, da'len,” he murmured, adjusting something around his neck.

“What? No, not yet,” she tried to say, scrambling to her feet. “I thought we might walk together,” she added hopefully, staring up into his face though she still struggled to bring his features into clarity. But he had shuttered any expression she had been hoping to catch, his eyes cool and watchful as he stared at her from a safe distance.

“You have no vallaslin yet, da'len,” he said curtly, abruptly changing the subject. He folded his arms across his chest.

Ellana shook her head, trying to follow the change. “No, not yet,” she finally said. She was embarrassed again. She did not want him to acknowledge her relative youth. Many her age had already started practicing the meditation and rites the blood tattoo, soon to mark their ascent into adulthood in the clan. It was yet another strike against her.

“I...I am not originally from clan Lavellan,” she finally admitted. “I had been brought in for training, as my other clan had already had too many mages, and Lavellan had none at the time.”

He didn't say anything, just watched her thoughtfully in silence.

“I had trouble adjusting.” She bit her lip, looking down at her feet to avoid looking into his blurry face. She knew now he was definitely using some kind of glamour to hide his features, but she had not pressed. Maybe he was hiding a hairy wart, she thought. She'd do the same thing if that were the case.

“My...other clan came from the deserts to the west. They were a much harder people. I felt these new elves I had been traded to were weak. That I was weak, to have been traded to a weak people,” she continued, her voice lowering further.

“I...resisted. Everything they wanted me to do, I did the opposite. I thought I was so clever,” she said, scuffing her foot lightly against the water-smooth rocks underfoot.

“By the time I had realized my error, I was...not welcome.”

She huffed out a breath in dismay. She had not meant to share so much. But when she finally found the courage to lift her eyes once more to his, she did not see dismay or condemnation.

“I understand, da'len,” he said softly. So softly she could hardly hear him over the wash of water against the shoreline.

“I had thought to ask my Keeper to begin the training to undergo the ceremony, but...I was...afraid of the answer,” she said, folding her arms defensively across her belly.

He lifted his head sharply.

“Do not. Do not get it,” he said, his voice almost a growl with how forcefully he said it. He took an aborted step towards her. “Do not get the vallaslin. It is a yoke to tie you to-”

He cut himself off abruptly. She squinted, trying to make out his features. “Don't you have one, hahren?” she asked, surprised. Though he did not claim a clan, surely he had been part of one to be so comfortable in the forest.

“I do not,” he answered distastefully.

“Ah,” she mumbled. She frowned in dismay. “But if I do not undergo the ceremony, I will not be considered an adult by my clan. I can never...I...no, I must. I would be called outcast, a flat-ear,” she said, shaking her head quickly.

“And are their words so important to you, da'len?” he asked, his voice tight. “I would implore you to rethink this.”

“They are my family,” she answered simply. “I could not bear their pity.”

He scowled, and Ellana wondered at his passion on this subject. “But I will think on your words, hahren. Would you explain it to me so that I could understand?” she implored.

“You would not like the answer,” he said, and he moved to clasp his hands behind his back. His shoulders arched tautly with the strength of his grip. “I would not distress you in that fashion.”

“I don't understand,” Ellana frowned. “You change your words so quickly, I cannot keep up.”

“You are too young to understand,” he said, and Ellana felt her insides go cold.

“I see,” she answered stiffly. She backed up one step, two more, until she was moving away from him and back towards the direction of her camp. “I will not take up any more of your time.”

She could not keep the hurt from her voice. She clenched her fist in anger at the betrayal of her voice. She wanted him to think her as cool and dispassionate as he was.

“No, I, wait-”

He reached out towards her instinctively, though dropped his hand when she did not stop.

“Dareth shiral, hahren.” And with that, she turned and fled.

  
 

Ellana really thought she should be done running for her life. Honestly, this was just getting ridiculous. Instead, she had a crazy shem leading her to a hole in the sky and a glowing green hole in her left palm.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” she questioned the universe, shivering with cold and fear. The ache in her palm blistered and shone bright in sick green, the unbearable stretch causing her to cry out in pain.

“It is growing. It will kill you if we wait any longer.” The shem, Cassandra, had stern features, fear turning the corners of her mouth downwards.

“Then by all means, let's rush headlong into certain death,” Ellana gasped, gripping her wrist tightly to her chest.

Cassandra's left eye twitched. Ellana pretended she didn't notice, and climbed to her feet, wavering unsteadily as she made her way up the barricaded road. She darted and weaved like a drunken nug.

The sudden drop in her stomach as she fell from the crumbling bridge almost brought up whatever breakfast she may have had still left. The scream of the demon almost expelled it out the other end.

“Oh, Creators,” she moaned, watching the demon rise up from the ice.

“Stay behind me,” Cassandra ordered, whipping her shield forward and sword held aloft. She attacked with a garbled yell.

Ellana briefly wondered if she should stay out of the fight entirely, but when she caught sight of a staff abandoned next to her, she grabbed at it with a mournful groan. She shot out wild ice magic, hoping to freeze it in place. She wasn't entirely helpful, but when the demon shattered with a long scream of rage, she felt pretty satisfied with herself.

“Drop your weapon. _Now_.”

Ellana huffed in dismay. “Come on, I was trying to help. But I'll disarm and leave all the fighting to you, if you'd like.”

Cassandra hesitated, before shrugging her shield back over her shoulder. “I guess it's fine. For now,” she said grudgingly.

So they continued on their way, battling grotesque demons, monsters and other assorted riffraff. Ellana grew a little more comfortable with the staff, whipping it around a few times in practice. She desperately missed her other staff, fire coming more easily than ice, but she supposed prisoners accused of killing the Divine couldn't be choosy.

She ignored Cassandra's pinched scowl. The woman needed a spa day in the worst way.

Ellana watched with interest – and admittedly some unease – the interaction between the hooded red haired woman, Cassandra and the Chantry lackey.

When they all turned to face her in expectation, she shook herself awake. “Uh, you're asking me?” Ellana asked, confused.

Cassandra made an impatient gesture. “To break the stalemate, if nothing else.”

“Oh, well. Uh, I guess I'd take the mountain path.”

Cassandra grimaced, but nodded in acquiescence. And so they went, climbing up the bitterly cold stairs. Ellana wished she had been able to loot a pair of gloves, and blew warm air on her fingers when they paused for a breather.

But the rest was not to last as they moved on to killing a few more demons, and rescuing some shems along the way. No one seemed entirely grateful for the rescue, not that she had expected any differently. She wouldn't argue if it got her out of being shackled in a cell.

And then she was standing in front of a sickly green void, the warp of space ringing a strange dissonance in the cold. She, Cassandra and the dwarf stumbled into the fray, swatting at demons and shades.

A male, warm hands gripping her wrist, thrust her hand towards the green void.

“Quickly! Before more come through!” His voice, harsh with anxiety, echoed strangely for a moment but she lost the thought as a ripping pain tore through her palm and cramped her wrist.

A wave of energy washed over Ellana as the rift closed, a wash of green highlighting the man's features before the noises faded and the light returned to normal.

“What did you do?” Ellana breathed, cradling her palm to her chest.

She watched as he turned to face her fully. Smooth, hairless skin, pointed ears. A cleft in his chin which Ellana had the strangest urge to explore – and wondered at her sanity – and a worn green vest with...what was that, teeth in the collar? A bone around his neck? Ew. Okay, a little strange. Fashion wasn't for everyone, after all.

“ _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours,” he replied, shifting his stance to cock one hip while he motioned towards her hand.

“Huh. Well, at least it's good for something, I suppose,” she grumbled, and the doubt in her voice was obvious to everyone.

“Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand,” he said.

Ellana was pretty sure all of the gods hated her. That was the only reason she could think of that explained why all of these horrible things happened to her.

“I theorized the mark might also be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.”

Ellana stared down in horror at the glimmering green mark in her hand. Wasn't that just fantastic? She couldn't remember how she had gotten here, couldn't even remember why she had been at the Conclave in the first place, and now this. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Cassandra strode forward eagerly. “Meaning it could also close the breach itself.”

“Possibly,” the elf replied. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he said, this time speaking to Ellana like that wasn't the most horrifying thing she had ever been told.

“Good to know! And here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever,” Varric said dryly. Ellana was pretty sure she caught an eye-roll, and nodded at him mock solemnly. He grinned unrepentantly.

“Varric Tethras: Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra, who grimaced in disgust.

“Huh. Well...a...pleasure?” Ellana replied, glancing sideways at Cassandra. Varric caught her glance.

“Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you,” he said, glancing down at the crossbow in his hands.

“I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer necessary,” Cassandra said, visible pain crossing her face.

“Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events.” Varric didn't seem to hold much sympathy for the shem.

Ellana watched the byplay avidly, unaware of the way the elven man stared so intently.

Cassandra signed. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-”

Varric scoffed. “Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me.”

Talk about some unresolved sexual tension there. Ellana tried to smother any visible amusement as Cassandra huffed in disgusted and turned away from him.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

Ellana turned to stare at the elven man as he gestured towards her. He had a smile on his face that Ellana couldn't quite read.

What an odd man.

“He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,'” Varric piped up helpfully.

Ellana looked between them and didn't even want to touch on that comment.

“You seem to know a great deal about it all,” she said to Solas, trying – and failing – to hide her suspicion. Solas seemed to understand though, since he quirked an eyebrow as if in approval.

“Like you, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said, glancing between the two of them with blatant mistrust.

“Technically all mages are apostates, Cassandra.” He turned once more to face me. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”

“How...sensible...of you,” Ellana replied, tilting her head in curiosity as she surveyed him. His eyes seemed to crease with amusement, though his face remained carefully blank.

“Sense seems to be in short supply around here,” he agreed. “Cassandra, you should know. The magic involved here is unlike anything I've ever seen.”

He turned to face the woman fully, body language relaxed. “Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Ellana looked at him in surprise before trying to wipe the expression away. Was he trying to help her?

“Understood,” Cassandra muttered, nodding her head once in acknowledgment. “We must get to the forward camp quickly,” she finished, brushing past Solas quickly.

“Well....Bianca's excited,” Varric said smoothly, as he moved to walk past her.

“Bianca?” she asked, walking beside him as they followed behind Cassandra and Solas.

“My crossbow,” he said, patting the smooth handle proudly.

Ellana sent him a disbelieving side-eye, but didn't bother to address it. She was surrounded by crazy people on all sides, she thought despondently.

 

Ellana was officially roped into some shem Inquisition, kindly beaten into submission and forced to go out and gather some goodwill from people that usually had none for her people, and figured it was probably the least surprising thing to happen to her.

So here she was, traveling away from her clan to go help some humans hunt and find clothing and kill some bandits, and pondered what god she could have possibly angered enough to find herself bound up in all of this.

She sat before the fire, watching as Varric, Cassandra and Solas puttered around getting the campsite in order. She absently smoothed a finger along the vallaslin circling her left eye.

“May I sit with you?” Solas asked politely, gesturing to the small leather mat she was sitting on.

She nodded, scooting over a little to make more room while he settled beside her. She waited for him to speak, but he seemed content to watch the flames with her as night descended and the small sounds of the people in camp washed over them.

So she kept quiet, once more stroking the skin underneath her eye. To a human, they would feel no difference in the texture of her skin, but Ellana could feel the slight roughness of the scar tissue, the slick of ink as if it were still fresh.

It gleamed brightly in the firelight, she knew. It was during this time, sitting in front of the fire, that she felt most connected to her vallaslin. To Sylaise. Hearthkeeper, indeed.

She could feel him finally turn to stare at her, watching as she stroked the blood ink on her face.

“I see you have received the vallaslin. Is it...new?” he asked, and if she knew him better, she would swear there was some bitterness in his voice. She wondered if it was because his face was bare. She knew most city elves had... _feelings_ about the Dalish.

“It is not,” she answered. “I received it when I was recognized as an adult in my clan.”

“Ah.”

They were both quiet for a moment, before she finally turned to stare at him. It was his turn to face the fire, pretending he didn't feel her gaze brush over his face.

“You remind me of someone I...met. When I was younger,” she said, tilting her head.

“Oh?” he asked. “Someone you met? Not close to you?”

“I didn't say that,” she answered. “Just someone I had met only a few times.”

“How do I remind you of this person?” he asked, and he turned to meet her eyes this time. The blue of his eyes were hypnotic in the dancing firelight.

“I suppose your knowledge of things outside my understanding, mostly,” she said slowly, trying to narrow down the similarities. “He was...male, obviously. An elf. Blue eyes, too. A wandering spirit, it would seem,” she said, trying to smile.

 She had a feeling it failed miserably.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his eyes tracking over her face. Her eyes, downcast. She could almost feel his gaze as a physical touch across her cheekbones. The shaved dark hair over her ears, a soft fuzz against the soft length trailing over her shoulder. Catching on her vallaslin.

She hesitated. “No, not hurt, I suppose. Not physically, at least. I suppose...I was disappointed.”

He sucked in a breath, as if her answer surprised him. “How so?”

“He was my hahren,” she said, a flush staining her cheeks. She could feel her ears warm in the coolness of the evening. “But I...I was childish, and had childish yearnings. And it is every child that must learn that...well, I suppose that not everything is like in fantasy.”

“It's dumb,” she finally said, roughly pushing tendrils of hair away from her face. “It was some stupid idea I had that was never encouraged. Disappointed, but mostly in myself for being so foolish.”

“I don't...I don't think it's foolish to have such...yearnings,” he said, and some of his coolness had faded. The poor man sounded fairly frazzled.

And it finally made her laugh. She could finally laugh at herself, without some bitterness staining it. She grinned at him, shrugging a bit. “Ah well, we were all teenagers once, right?”

He watched her, gaze captured, and she watched him as well. The firelight made his eyes glitter. She didn't normally go for bald guys, but he was definitely making her see the light, so to speak.

“Indeed. I may have done one or two foolish things in my youth, as well,” he answered wryly, brows raised.

“Only one or two, hahren?” she teased, hardly noticing the slip at first. But Solas did. She could see the way it caught him unaware, startled enough to meet her eyes in surprise.

“Does that unnerve you, Solas?” she asked instead. She looked away self-consciously. “I meant no disrespect, of course. As I said, there are some traits you share with him, and it makes me...comfortable, I guess.”

“No...no, I don't mind,” he answered, and when she finally had the courage to meet his eyes once more, there was a heat behind them that had nothing to do with the fire.

“I'm glad,” she said softly.

And with that, they sat in front of the fire in silence, but where there might have once been indifference, there was a warmth Ellana hadn't expected to find in the wilderness but was glad to find all the same.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She kept her eyes open until the briefest brush of his lips touched hers, and she was overwhelmed. She closed her eyes to feel everything; the cold of the air brushing against her cheeks, the rough clatter of the bones in his collar, the breath he took as she exhaled in a ghost of a kiss across his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kisses incoming. As always, if you find anything I should fix, feedback is always appreciated!

There was no way she was siding with Templars. She told Cullen as much. He was pissed, but Ellana so didn't care. There was no way she was filling Haven with Templars accustomed to power, prestige and general dislike of mages. She was a mage, after all. That he thought he could sway her any differently was misguided. Kind of cute, but misguided. She told Cullen that as well, and his blush was similarly pretty adorable.

She cackled all the way to Redcliffe.

 

Of course, everything went to hell. That's what she deserved after being so cocky. It was awful, and she knew she'd have nightmares for ages, watching Solas fall to the floor like a discarded sack of flour. Of Cassandra and Varric filled with swirling masses of red lyrium.

But Dorian had proved to be a steadfast companion, one she welcomed heartily into the Inquisition. That they could sit in silence, and look at each other with the same pain of remembrance was both a blessing and a curse.

 

“So, I guess thanks should probably be in order for leading me to Skyhold?” Ellana inquired as she watched Solas paint the rotunda he had clearly claimed for himself.

“I did not lead you, if you remember. You found the way all on your own. If it hadn't wanted to be found, it would not have made the way clear for you,” he answered absently as he swirled vibrant reds together. He apparently didn't care for the resulting color, since he huffed in irritation, and moved to walk around her towards his supplies.

“That was clearing the way, huh?” she asked dryly. “Well, I suppose to a decrepit castle, that would be as clear as it could make it from it's stationary position in the mountains,” she added with amusement.

He darted a curt look in her direction, clearly not amused. She shrugged in response to his unspoken chastisement.

“Lighten up, hahren. I'm just teasing you, after all. This place is great, I'm glad to have found it.”

“As you say,” he answered cryptically. He was cryptic about everything, so she didn't even bother trying to figure out what he was agreeing with.

“Anyways, I'm going out with Dorian and Blackwall for some exploration or whatever. Questing, maybe? Leliana and Josephine are entirely to blame. Did you want to go, or were you staying in this time?”

“Ah, I will accompany you if that is your wish.” She knew he couldn't resist being left out of the action.

“Three mages, eh? Maybe I should make Cassandra come instead. She'd probably lose her hair from stress, though,” Ellana grinned.

“At least Blackwall has admirable...assets,” Dorian called down from the library. Ellana snickered at Solas' long-suffering sigh.

“Anyways, get your things together. We leave at first light.” She touched his arm as she passed him towards the stairs leading up to the library, pointedly ignoring the way he stiffened under her touch.

She took the steps two at a time, trying to tamp down her blush. Dorian would tease her incessantly if he caught even a glimpse of it.

But while she was sure the blush was still present, Dorian didn't say much about it, instead telling her wild stories about his time driving everyone in Tevinter crazy. Ellana giggled, huddled next to his set of bookshelves while he gesticulated wildly near the railing.

He was probably her best girlfriend in this whole place. She decided to tell him so, ignoring his affronted squawk.

“I'll have you know I'm the epitome of manliness, and I resent the implication that I would ever enjoy dressing you like my own personal doll and talking about dashing young men.”

Ellana threw her head back, laughing so loudly he knew she was grossly disturbing the other mages hovering in the area, who of course would never dare to shush the Inquisitor.

Dorian glanced down to see if Solas had heard, and if he had been in any less control, he was sure his jaw would have dropped.

Solas had stopped painting, head tilted back, eyes closed. Listening to Ellana laugh.

He smothered his gasp of surprise, instead turning to shoot Ellana a triumphant smile. But of course, she was still giggling, leaning against his bookshelves, stroking the binding of the old books while she tried to control her chuckles.

Oblivious. Both of these fools. Dorian sighed quietly. Of course they were, and of course he was going to have to meddle. Because that's what girlfriends did.

 

“Forbidden Oasis, indeed,” Dorian muttered petulantly, brushing the sand off his cloak with a curse.

Ellana was sweating. She couldn't even claim it was just a healthy glow; it was clearly sweat beading on her forehead. Her partial robes, belted over her pants, did not breathe very well. As it was, pretty obvious stains were appearing at her neckline, underarms and back. She didn't even have the energy to care.

“This is when I appreciate learning the magic to prevent sunburn on a bald head,” Solas added tiredly as they trudged through the sand.

Ellana laughed a little before tugging the hood of her robe a little more firmly over her face, no matter how warm it made her.

“I know there's a good camping spot around here near the water,” she said, glancing around to get her bearings. “I guess it's just...in these rocks somewhere.”

“Lead on, hapless leader,” Dorian grumbled. She ignored him, knowing the sun was taking its toll on all of them.

Unfortunately, Solas did not agree. He stopped dead, and everyone paused to stare at him. Even Blackwall was looking a little worse for wear, his heavy armor rustling in the sifting sand. Ellana did not envy him.

“Don't talk to her so rudely, _shem_ ,” Solas spit.

“Or what, _elf_? You'll make me regret it?” Dorian asked, lifting his lip in the most dreadful sneer Ellana had ever seen her friend muster.

She exchanged a concerned glance with Blackwall. “I am not offended. I know we're all tired,” she said soothingly to no obvious effect. The two men continued to glare hotly at each other.

“I will,” Solas promised, clearly ignoring Ellana. He clenched a fist, his hand wavering with a disconcerting green glow. Ellana was getting a very bad feeling about this.

“You've been looking for any reason to come after me,” Dorian spat. “That you drag Ellana into your petty spite is proof of your foolishness.”

“You miserable wastrel,” Solas hissed. “As if your kind should even have the right to call her by name.”

“Whoa, time to calm down now,” Blackwall interrupted, his hand resting cautiously on the hilt of his sword. “Enough of this, the sun is getting to you both.”

“Like I haven't seen the way you stare at the Inquisitor when her back is turned.” Solas rounded on Blackwall, sensing another target. His eyes glinted strangely in the sun, and Ellana was very worried now. This was not the Solas she knew.

It seemed the other two men sensed it, for they backed up a step, hands up.

“Solas, what's wrong?” Ellana asked softly, moving closer towards the mage fairly vibrating with nervous energy. She gently stroked his shoulder, gasping when he wound an arm around her waist and tugged her closer and behind him.

Blackwall and Dorian did not care for that, if the sudden crackle of energy and the quiet _shiiing_ of a blade pulling free of its sheath was any indication.

“You aren't worthy to look upon her,” Solas growled, his head lowered threateningly.

“Solas, what's _wrong_?” Ellana asked again, more insistently. She reached up, touching the back of his neck, and with a quick pull of mana, sent a trickle of cool magic brushing against his heated skin.

He gasped, shoulders arching back in surprise. He turned to glance at her, and she tried to smile at him reassuringly. She grabbed the hand she could reach, sending another brief shock of cold, and she could almost see him trying to shake off the strange rage building inside of him.

“Calm down, please,” she said, glancing at the other two men hovering uncertainly in front of them. “I think we could all use a break, so the sooner we find that oasis, the better, don't you think?”

With that, the other two men hustled ahead. She turned to Solas once more, watching his face start to flush in embarrassment.

“Ir abelas, Inquisitor. I'm not quite certain what has come over me,” he apologized stiffly.

“It's quite alright, lethallin. This land is unnerving. I wouldn't be surprised if we stumble across something awful,” Ellana said sadly.

She startled laughter out of Solas, which had partly been her intent. The other half recognized that she was apparently the harbinger of bad luck and always suspected the worst.

“Ma serannas, lethallan,” he said, sending her a brief smile before it melted away. He squinted, staring up into the bright sky, sun baking the sand and rock surrounding them. “It has been...a hard travel, this time.”

“As you say,” she smiled. “Come. We will find the oasis and relax for a moment. Perhaps even bathe,” she said wistfully.

“A worthy endeavor,” he replied, shifting the pack on his back as he moved to follow Dorian and Blackwall.

She opened her mouth, thinking of his comment to Blackwall. While she knew there was some simmering animosity between he and Dorian, his venom towards Blackwall had been unexpected. Was this something she should investigate?

Looking at the tense line of his shoulders, all signs pointed to no.

So she just sighed, shifting her own pack and trudging along. This quest couldn't end soon enough. Stupid rifts and sand and rock and strange mystical things that had no answers.

 

She was right. Horrible things happened, she opened some sarcophagus' and battled corpses, and found more of the strange humming shards. But at least she now knew what the shards were used to open.

As she and her companions finally made it back to the oasis camp they had set up the day before, she all but collapsed in front of the fire.

She was so tired. Tired of spelunking in abandoned mines. And spiders, fighting so many spiders.

She groaned miserably, the sound fading almost to a whine. Blackwall chuckled where he sat next to her, slowly oiling his sword with rhythmic strokes. It was strangely fascinating, and she watched as he methodically checked his weapon and shield for damage.

“Thinking of anything in particular, Inquisitor?” Blackwall asked at last as the sun dipped below the rocky ledge where they were stationed. Solas and Dorian were in their tents, tending to whatever captured their attention, though she knew there was never any true privacy in camp. Dorian had apologized loudly last night for any unintended slur against her, and though Solas had not said anything, she had seen his shoulders slump before he disappeared into his tent.

“No, just that I'm actually pretty bad luck, I think,” she answered, chuckling tiredly.

“Why do you say that, my lady?” he asked gently, though he did not meet her eyes.

“I probably have the worst luck in the world,” she admitted. “I wasn't even supposed to be at that Conclave. I don't really remember why I was there in the first place. I am not a Keeper, or a historian, or a member of the Chantry. I hate not knowing.”

She was ashamed at the frustrated whine in her own voice, knowing she probably sounded like a petulant child. But Blackwall just smiled calmly. So calm, a bedrock in an otherwise tumultuous sea of personalities, to be honest.

“I believe you must have been there for a reason, even if it's not known to you. Even if it wasn't a worthy or respectable cause. You are exactly what was needed, when it was needed most.”

Ellana sniffled, glancing away from the Warden. She took a deep breath, willing the moisture from her eyes. He always seemed to know her greatest fear.

“I thank you for your kind words, Blackwall,” she said, aiming for calm but merely sounding strangled.

He laughed softly in the darkness. “No, no kindness in me of that nature, Inquisitor. I only say what I believe.”

“Then you are even more generous than I had believed,” she said, sending him a quick smile. A true smile. She glanced away before she saw the red creeping up his cheeks.

“While I have the time...I shall take advantage of the water while we have it, I think,” Ellana said, standing to go to her tent.

“Do you need a guard, lady?” Blackwall asked, glancing up under heavy dark brows.

“I don't think so,” she answered uncertainly. Usually Cassandra was around and would accompany her.

“I will wait for you out of sight, then,” he said, shifting as if to stand.

Ellana blushed. While she was Dalish, and certainly no stranger to bathing with her clan, it unnerved her to think of Blackwall close by while she bathed. Damn Solas and his weird comments, she thought.

“I, ah, I mean, is that necessary?” she squeaked, rubbing the back of her neck unconsciously. Blackwall looked as if he had been struck, and Ellana immediately felt like the world's biggest ass.

“If I have said anything improper-” he started to say, before Ellana cut him off.

“No, I apologize. I'm being ridiculous. Of course I trust you to watch over me,” Ellana said firmly. “I'd be grateful for your assistance.”

He looked indecisive. “If you prefer that I call one of the others...” He trailed off uncomfortably.

“Absolutely not. I was just feeling shy,” she said, flushing to the tips of her ears as she looked away.

There was an obvious snort from Dorian's tent, and Ellana wondered if there was a spell for the earth to swallow her whole. She was certain there was some earth-shattering spell she could cast, so that she might sink into the hole and never return.

At least Blackwall had the decency to look away, rubbing at his whiskers in an attempt to hide a small smile. As long as he no longer had the appearance of a struck mabari, she would even be satisfied that it happened at her expense.

“Just let me collect my things,” she said, whistling a little tune as she ducked into her tent for her bag. It only took a moment to get a change of clothes and soap, and with little fanfare they moved towards the nearby water.

“What are you whistling?” he asked as they moved away from the firelight of the camp.

“Ah, it's silly,” she laughed. “When I was younger, our watchers would whistle a little song while we bathed. Like, 'scrub here' and 'soap there', that sort of thing. And we'd follow along with the song.”

“That's pretty...adorable, actually.”

She smiled, scrunching her shoulders up a bit in a nervous habit. She didn't usually tell many of her companions about her life before the Inquisition. Not that...well, not that many of them had asked, she supposed. Dorian, certainly, but he was her close friend. And Solas, she was sure had asked a few questions, though they hadn't talked much lately. Ellana's hectic traveling schedule had seen to that.

So it was kind of nice to remember.

“The other kids were a little older than I was, when I first came to the clan,” she admitted. “So, I felt somewhat out of place, in between groups.”

“You say when you first came to your clan. Were you not born there?” he asked as she settled her little pile on a nearby rock. He waited for her to get situated and sat down next to the bundle, though he turned his face away from the water for privacy.

“No, I was originally born of another clan. Similar to this place, actually,” she mused, looking around. “Not this much water, though. Had to constantly move to find suitable watering holes.”

“Sounds like a harsh life,” he said, cupping his chin in his hand and propping an elbow on his knee. He kind of hunched over but looked comfortable, she supposed. She smiled watching him.

She turned away though to undress, slipping into the water with her smallclothes in hand. She may as well take advantage of the pool; Creators knew when she'd be able to wash her clothes so thoroughly again while they traveled back to Skyhold.

“I suppose it was,” she said, picking up the conversation as she eased into the water, scrubbing her shoulders. It wasn't deep enough to swim, but more than enough to submerge herself with a little work.

“Were you happy there?”

“I...was. My mother and father were there, as was their family. But being a mage in a clan already full of them, they had no choice. I had to leave. And so, when the clans met at Arlathvhen, I was traded to Lavellan.”

“Traded. You make it sound like a form of slavery,” Blackwall said slowly, humming in serious thought. As if what he thought distressed him.

“It may be seen that way, I suppose. It serves a purpose, enough that the clans keep doing it at least. I was not unhappy with Lavellan, in any case. It took some time, but I was able to adjust.”

Ellana couldn't tell him about her struggle to fit in. About her indecision to receive the vallaslin. About her hurt. It was too personal, and while she liked Blackwall, she didn't know all of him.

He had his own secrets, after all. From one that kept her own close, she could sense it in him, and she would not press.

He simply hummed in assent, and to her relief he dropped that line of questioning.

So she splashed a little in the water, her back turned toward Blackwall, and whistled a little more as she scrubbed her clothing. Non-toxic soap from her homeland, of course. Her ablutions complete, she floundered a little in the water before she was able to float a little on her back.

The warm breeze had her nipples stiffening as the water lapped over her belly. Her ears, submerged underwater, muffled the noises of the evening. She dimly heard the snuffle of a few animals gingerly approaching the pool in the distance. It was peaceful, looking up at the stars in the sky, the warmth of the water seeping into weary muscles.

She idly wished Solas could have joined her, before immediately banishing the thought from her mind. Or at least, she wished she could have.

Instead, she imagined him naked, lithe muscles dripping water, the shallow of the pool barely enough to keep him decent. Long, thin fingers flicking water at her.

She...really needed to find some companionship. If she was imaging Solas, the most uptight male she had ever met, it was getting pretty bad. Though he really did fill out a tight pair of breeches, she had to admit.

Scoffing at her thoughts, she rose from the water, squeezing it from her hair as she turned to walk to her drying cloth.

She paused mid-step in the water, surprised to see Solas and Blackwall in apparently heated conversation. If by conversation she meant argument.

What in the world was this place doing to them, she wondered. She had never seen either man act like this. Was there something in the water? She leaned down, trying to sniff out some toxin, but it smelled clean and clear, the sand a natural sift.

When she looked up, Blackwall had disappeared, and Solas had taken his place on the rock.

She waded carefully towards the waterline, holding her wet clothing against her breasts. She knew he would be too polite to look, but she hadn't been lying earlier. She was feeling shy, and not only in front of Blackwall.

“Solas,” she called out as she approached. “Are you here to use the pool as well?”

“Ah, I have done all that I needed earlier,” he answered, his voice muffled by the noise of the nearby waterfall as he kept his face politely turned away.

“Oh, that's good. Uh. Why...why did you come?”

“I relieved Blackwall of his duty,” he said stiffly.

“I...see,” she replied. But she didn't, not really. His words from earlier echoed in her mind, though, about how Blackwall had looked at her.

She didn't understand why it should matter to Solas, though. She knew why she wanted it to matter, but she also knew better than to get her hopes up. Ellana had learned that lesson years ago.

At the thought, the questions that wanted to tumble free went unasked, and she simply put her mind to dressing. When she was suitable, she tapped him on the shoulder silently, and they made their way back to camp, definitely not talking about the strange undertone between the men.

And they definitely did not speak of it for the remainder of their journey, though Dorian had opened his mouth once or twice before thinking better of it.

Honestly. Men. So strange sometimes.

 

After returning to Skyhold for a few days, and finally sitting down to answer her pile of correspondence – which may or may not have included Josephine standing directly behind her desk with a tiny riding crop in hand – she had a moment to breathe as she watched the mages and defected Templars train together in the courtyard.

Cullen was a hard but fair taskmaster, eyeballing the new recruits with a zeal she had hardly seen at Haven. She strolled over, standing next to him quietly as he continued with his drills, though she did see he had straightened up a little with her arrival.

Ellana smiled at him, though didn't interrupt, and after another twenty minutes he finally released his soldiers for their break.

As they trekked by with varying degrees of pained groans, she settled in a little more closely to him. She was pleased to see his blush return full force. She hadn't seen it in ages, and had almost wondered if she had imagined his response at Haven.

Thank goodness she had never been a Circle mage, that would likely have put a damper on things. Literally. She winced a little at the thought.

“Anything I should know about?” she asked, watching as a few stragglers stretched out in the makeshift training ring.

“They aren't bad,” he allowed, a twitch of the lip the only indication of his true pleasure. “We've finally had some new recruits come stumbling in after our conscript efforts. The mages have finally started pulling their own weight too.”

“I'm glad to hear it. You've done wonders with them, especially after...what happened at Haven,” she said gently.

“It's all thanks to you that they are willing to come to Skyhold,” he said, turning to face her. The fur against his chin ruffled slightly in the cold mountain breeze, and Ellana wondered if it would be acceptable for her to trace said jawline with her tongue.

Probably. Most likely.

Well...

No, no. In any case, she hadn't been invited. Maybe if she pressed a little...

“Inquisitor, if I may have a moment of your time?”

Ellana smothered a groan, but turned with as much smile as she could muster to face Solas. It was somewhat surprising to find him outside since he rarely ventured out into the courtyard so soon after returning from their travels.

“Give me a few minutes, and I'll come meet you,” she said, waving a hand towards the huge doors of the great hall.

“Ah,” he coughed lightly, “it is a matter of some importance, if I may be so bold.”

Ellana sighed, but nodded. “I'll be right behind you.” She turned back to Cullen, patting his armored forearm gently. “I'll catch up with you soon, I hope,” she murmured.

Ah, there was that blush again. So lovely, indeed. She didn't normally go for muscled shems, but for him, she would make an exception.

“L-lady,” he stammered, bowing. He reluctantly moved away from her, casting one last glance in her direction before he headed off towards his office.

“This had better be important,” she muttered to Solas as they turned towards he direction of the massive doors. She really should ask how they were opened and closed. Levers? Magic? Why didn't she know this?

Ellana shook her head, turning her head slightly to glance at Solas. She was surprised to see the tightness of his jaw, shoulders pulled back joint-poppingly tight. His stride was not the usual desultory glide but a hitched stomp as if he were in pain.

“Are you alright?” she asked in concern as they climbed the stairs. She could hardly keep up with his pace.

“I am fine,” he answered through obviously gritted teeth.

“You don't sound fine,” she said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he twisted away from her touch as if burned.

She stopped abruptly at the doors, wounded.

“Lethallin, what has happened that you would shrink from my touch?” she demanded, uncaring of how much her voice carried within the stone walls. She was aware of the quieting of those standing in small cliques inside the keep, but paid them no heed.

She kept her gaze trained on Solas. On her very dear friend. Who she sometimes imagined naked. Not that it was important right now, of course.

“You continue to surprise me. Alright, let us talk. Preferably somewhere more interesting than this,” he answered, motioning not towards the rotunda, but towards the doorway that led to her chambers.

“Of course,” she said, falling in behind as he led her towards her private rooms. She ignored the whispers following her as he held the door open for her politely.

As she walked through the door, the last thing she remembered was Solas approaching from behind.

 

Her vision slowly resolved, the crystal clarity of Haven's stone walls and the clatter of steel meeting steel was heard in the distance. She had almost forgotten how small Haven seemed in comparison to...to...she couldn't quite remember.

“Why here?” she asked, motioning to the snow and people milling around. She had meant to talk with him in private, she remembered.

“Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you,” he answered, brushing past her as he walked through the streets.

“I thought we talked of this already,” she said, tilting her head as she watched his back. He wore his green vest, the teeth in the collar glinting dully in the sunlight. Ick.

As they walked through the doorway of the Chantry, it opened instead to reveal a cell. The walls and floors gleamed wetly in the low firelight. Chains rustled as if connected to unseen prisoners, and iron bars stood firm behind a wooden chair. More chains were curled up around its legs.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor,” he said as they shuffled forward in the near dark. She could see clearly despite little light.

“That probably didn't last too long,” she answered dryly, a slight smirk twisting her lips.

“You were a mystery,” he said. His head tilted down towards her, meeting her eyes. His face, partially covered in shadow, seemed both blurry and sharply defined in in the shadows of the cell. She blinked hard, trying to bring his face into focus.

“You still are,” he frowned. “I ran every test I could imagine. Searched the Fade. Yet found nothing.”

He shook his head slightly. “Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn't produce results.”

“Cassandra's like that with everyone, then,” Ellana muttered. Solas cracked a small smile, chuckling.

They turned in tandem, leaving the cell behind to step once more into the sunlight.

“You were never going to wake up,” Solas continued. “How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?”

He paused once more, twisting his head sharply to look at her. “I was frustrated. Frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach.”

Ellana raised an eyebrow, as his face twisted sharply in disgust. She knew him well enough to know that had irritated him more than her limp, unresponsive body had.

“Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra...or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

“Where would you have gone?” she asked, interested despite herself.

“I'm not quite sure. I told myself: One more attempt to seal the rifts.” He thrust his hand towards the green rift in the sky, and she wondered. Hadn't she closed it? Why was it still there? Why...why wasn't she afraid?

“I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them.” Even with his back was turned to her, she could clearly hear the bitterness of his failure.

“I watched the rifts expand and grow, and resigned myself to flee, and then...”

The sharp exhale of the Breach in the sky, the stretch and burn of the phantom mark in her palm.

“It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

She remembered him saying this once before. In her opinion, it wasn't any less creepy the second time around.

“You had sealed it with a gesture, and right then, I felt the whole world change.” He looked at her for a long moment, face tight with curiosity and some emotion that Ellana was too scared to name.

“Felt the whole world change?” she asked softly, eyes intent on his.

“A figure of speech,” he replied quickly with a small quirk of his lips.

“I'm aware of the metaphor. I'm more interested in 'felt'.” She inched closer to him, and he did not back away.

“You change...everything,” he finally answered, and he closed his eyes briefly as if in pain.

“Sweet talker,” she smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. She wanted him to feel the same flare of affection she felt for him.

He looked away, his face uncommonly hesitant.

Ellana screwed up her courage. It was now or never, she knew. If she did not act...it would never go anywhere.

So she reached forward, sliding her palm gently across his jaw, turning his head back to face her. His eyes still held some shine of pain, and she could not stand to see it. She stretched up, slowly, giving him time to move away if that was what he wanted, but he did not pull back. He did not move forward either, a passive participant.

Her heart broke a little, but she would take even that if it meant she would finally know the softness of his kiss.

She kept her eyes open until the briefest brush of his lips touched hers, and she was overwhelmed. She did not want him to see. So she closed her eyes to feel everything; the cold of the air brushing against her cheeks, the rough clatter of the bones in his collar. The breath he took as she breathed out in a ghost of a kiss across his lips.

It was...it was everything she had dreamed of, but somehow lacking.

Ellana pulled back. She would have moved away, the flush on her cheeks hot enough to burn. But he shook his head, his lips parted and the sadness finally melted away, and he reached for her. She was so stunned she practically fell into his embrace.

All she could do was bow her back, hands gripping the sides of his vest as if to hang on for dear life. She opened her mouth, and he slicked his tongue against her lower lip in gentle demand.

She'd be embarrassed later, but a whine of pleasure was all that escaped as her tongue finally met his. But he was not willing to be conquered and chased her tongue back to her mouth, following with a smooth lick that had her opening her mouth on a panting breath.

She could not breathe. Did not desire breath if it should take his mouth from hers.

Solas gripped the back of her head, pulling her closer, his mouth open against her chin. The corner of her mouth. His lips brushed her vallaslin, and he pulled away as if burned, but she gripped him tighter. Her mouth met his, and the world dropped away.

The heat of his lips scorched hers, and fire was as second nature to her as breathing. She was not frightened, not when she had desired this for so long. She moaned, trying to keep her pleasure quiet, but he would not stand for it.

He moved his mouth to her neck, nipping with those sharp teeth, and she felt the bloom of heat that followed. She tilted her head back on a loud moan, gripping the back of his head, fingers sliding smoothly against the soft bare skin of his skull.

She brushed along one of his pointed ears, and the noise Solas made against the skin of her neck had her hesitating. Going back, stroking it again, and he shuddered against her.

She was captured in his embrace, almost unbalanced, but the strength of his arms ensured she would not stumble. So she lay pliant, pressed against his body, and a small shift of her hips had her pressing against his hardness.

She might have squeaked. Just...just a little.

He heard, and pulled back, his eyes raking over her face. She didn't know what he was looking for, but it must have been what he had both hoped and dreaded, for both pleasure and pain suffused his features.

One final, soft kiss, and he pulled away, shaking his head. “We shouldn't. It isn't right. Not even here.”

“What do you mean, 'even here'?” Ellana gasped, glancing around. There was no one in sight, though the murmur of voices could be heard over the pounding at the forge.

“Where do you think we were?” he asked instead, and his eyes held challenge.

She looked around, more intently this time. The fuzziness returned, and she finally understood. “This isn't real,” she said, and her heart gave such a thump as if to jump out of her chest. She could not meet his gaze.

“That's a matter of debate,” he said smoothly, and he shifted unsteadily on his feet. As if he wanted to move closer, but could not. At least she wasn't alone in feeling unbalanced.

“Probably best discussed after you _wake up_.”

 

She jerked awake, sitting up so quickly her head spun. She was lying on her bed, on top of the covers, so she knew this was no ordinary dream. She had not fallen asleep naturally.

She wanted to cry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left. Explicit smut will change the rating soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Ellana wasn't proud to admit that she was avoiding Solas to the point that it was obvious everyone around them. When he deigned to join them at supper, she stumbled to her feet, claiming some previously forgotten appointment. She could feel his gaze bore into her back as she fled from the hall.

She didn't ask him to join her on her next journey, which was...also pretty obvious. He had been the only one of her companions that had joined her every time. Instead, she grabbed Dorian, Bull and Sera for the next trip. She really, really hadn't wanted to go to the Fallow Mire, but she had some soldiers to rescue.

She was positive her clothing could never be salvaged. The smell of swamp was overwhelming. She gagged a little when she saw the floating corpses.

“This is so gross,” Ellana complained, leading the way through the rain. She tried to stay to the roads as much as possible since the smallest splash seemed to grab the attention of the dead.

“Ugh. You never bring me on these kind of trips,” Sera muttered, wiping her hand against her vest in disgust. “Why didn't you bring the egghead?”

She could almost feel Dorian and Bull perk up. They had been too polite to ask. Not that Sera was ever polite.

“I just figured he had better things to do with his time,” Ellana said defensively, pushing the wet clumps of hair out of her eyes. Her robe was soaked, and the shoes she always bitched about were sopping wet. They were so heavy she probably sounded like a herd of druffalo stomping down the road.

“He never has anything better to do,” Sera said bluntly, buffing her fingernails in studied casualness. “You guys break up, yeah?”

“We were never together in the first place,” Ellana responded grumpily. Not for lack of trying on her part, anyways. Stupid men.

“Really?” Dorian piped up from the back. “Because I could swear there was some major flirting not too long ago.”

Bull huffed in laughter and didn't offer any help despite her pleading look in his direction.

“No,” she finally grumbled. “It was nothing.”

“Did I ever tell you I love peaches?” Sera asked abruptly, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

Ellana darted a quick glance at the blonde elf. “Uh...no?” she guessed.

“Well, I do. The best. No hard pit,” she added.

Bull and Dorian both coughed suddenly, turning away from Ellana's concerned glance.

“I guess that's good?” she threw out with a confused smile.

“It really is,” Sera laughed, slapping Ellana on the back before she moved away.

“Hopeless,” she heard Dorian mutter to Bull, who nodded in agreement. They never agreed on anything, so Ellana was suitably impressed. Lost, but impressed.

 

When they finally returned, bearing good news regarding the soldiers they were actually able to rescue, Ellana's heart gave a nervous thump when she saw Solas waiting by doors.

She wondered if she could dart away to the stables before anyone noticed, but no such luck. Dorian pushed her forward with a hard shove when Master Dennet came to gather up the horses.

“Don't be an idiot,” Dorian said gruffly in response to her wounded glare.

She could feel Solas watching her as she trudged up the steps. As she came abreast of where he stood, he offered a quiet “Inquisitor”.

“Lethallin,” she said in short greeting, sighing. “I must wash, and go to the war table. Shall we meet after?”

He nodded his head once, turning to move away. She hesitated, wondering if she should call out to him, but the moment passed, and he continued away uninterrupted.

 

She stood at the war table, bracing her hands against the rough wood when she heard the door open. “Josephine, I wanted to ask you something,” she started to say, before the rustle of armor caught her attention.

Josie was usually the first to show up, so when she glanced over her shoulder and saw Cullen, she was pleasantly surprised.

“Commander,” she said, smiling warmly. “How-”

But she abruptly cut off her question as he neared, his features haggard and drawn with pain.

“Ser Cullen!” she cried out, reaching for him as he swayed in place. “What is wrong? Are you ill?” she asked, gripping him tightly. She tried to ignore that the front of her beige tunic was pressed closely to his mail. Not that he'd be able to feel it, she was positive.

“I...my apologies, Inquisitor. I don't seem to be feeling...well...today,” he said haltingly.

Leliana and Josephine had just stepped in the doorway, watching their Inquisitor embrace the Commander, and drew the worst conclusions.

“Oh, our apologies,” they grinned. “We'll just wait outside, then?”

Ellana groaned. “Ser Cullen is sick,” she said shortly. “I must take him back to his room. Just give me a bit, and I'll return.”

“Do you require assistance?” Josephine asked in concern, finally catching sight of Cullen's waxy features.

“I think I've got it, stronger than I look and all that,” Ellana huffed as Cullen swallowed audibly. “Just send the healer when you have a chance.”

“I'm...I'm fine,” he mumbled incoherently. He tried to straighten his slumped shoulders and almost toppled over.

“Yes, you are the very model of good health, Cullen,” Ellana said wryly. She started to heft him forward, leading him steadily from the room towards the hall.

But the way his legs were suddenly prone to give out made it very clear that he would not make it to his own quarters, so she swerved and led him towards her room. She pointedly ignored the titters from those hovering nearby.

“I..Inquisitor, I shouldn't...”

“Hush, Ser Cullen. I will take care of you,” she replied, gently lowering him to a seat near the fire. Before she could dump him in the bed she'd have to remove his layers of mail, otherwise he'd probably suffocate.

She started at his feet, unwrapping the mail from his boots and working at the laces. It was slow work; sometimes she wasn't quite sure which buckles or ties to undo, but she soon got into a rhythm.

When she glanced up, she saw him peering down at her blearily, and she smiled at him, patting his knee. “Just relax. I've got you.”

“Yes...” he said, trailing off, his voice murmuring something inaudible. She was so focused on her task she didn't quite catch it, but when Solas spoke from the doorway, she startled spectacularly.

“Am I interrupting?” Solas asked quietly.

“Cullen isn't feeling well, at the moment. If you'd be so kind as to help me remove some of this armor, I was going to put him to bed.”

“Ma nuvenin, Inquisitor,” Solas replied. She shot him a distracted smile, working on one of the knee guards while Solas moved to the other side to start on his gauntlets.

With short work, he was just about disrobed when the healer stepped into the room, carrying her case. Cullen swayed when Ellana gingerly lifted him from his seat, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“I must unclasp your breastplate, Cullen, and then you may lie down and sleep,” Ellana soothed as she walked him to her bed. It was probably the largest bed in the keep, and too much for Ellana alone. Cullen looked like he'd fit into it perfectly, she noticed.

“Lean right here, I will help you,” she whispered as he blinked owlishly in the hearthlight that Solas was stirring to life. She struggled with the clasps, the plate almost too heavy to lift alone, but she was finally able to get it removed. The healer was busy mixing a potions by the foot of the bed to be much help, so she shuffled around to his front, about to push him onto the bed.

But he reached out, pulling her close and nuzzling his feverish face into her neck. She stroked his shoulder before carding her hand through the sweaty tendrils of blonde hair at his neck.

“Lay down,” she said, guiding him down onto her bed. He looked ridiculously grateful.

The healer moved to replace her, though Cullen reached out to grab her hand before she could move away. “Stay a little while?” he asked, and his eyes were hazy with fever.

“Of course,” she said, patting his hand. She touched his forehead, concerned at the heat there.

“Will he be alright?” she asked the healer quietly. “He is very warm.”

“We've had some bad cold sickness going through the ranks. Surprised it took him this long to catch it,” Healer Elan replied. “He'll be fine with a few days of rest.”

“Ah,” Ellana sighed in relief, “that is good to hear.”

She moved away from the bed to give the healer space, smiling at Solas. “Thank you for your help. I didn't realize he wore so much armor,” she laughed.

“Did you not?” Solas asked, tilting his head a bit as he stared at her from his place beside the hearth.

“I am not a warrior to don so much metal, am I?” she responded, moving closer to the fire. It was briskly cold even with the large glass doors closed tightly against the breeze.

“No, I-” he cut himself off abruptly, before smiling some secret smile she could not read. “I suppose you are not, Inquisitor.”

“Ellana,” came a gasp from the bed as the healer forced some horrible tasting potion down Cullen's throat. She strode briskly back over to the bed, leaning over to hover over his face.

He grimaced in distaste as he swallowed, but his eyes never left hers. She placed her hand again his forehead, and he sighed almost happily at the obvious coolness. The healer chuckled.

“Cullen, you must rest now,” she said mock sternly, patting his forehead a little.

“Ellana.”

She blinked, looking down at him in surprise. He had never called her by her name.

In fact...none of them had except for Dorian. They all called her Inquisitor or Herald, lady or boss. None had even asked her name, and for him...

She swallowed heavily, knowing the hearthlight at her back might hide some of the sheen. But not all, if his face was anything to go by.

“Cullen,” she answered fondly, and struggled to swallow a thick little lump she didn't want to name.

He dropped off into exhausted slumber shortly after, and when she turned away from his sleeping form, her bedroom was empty. She hadn't heard Solas or Elan leave. That was...embarrassing.

She settled the blankets more firmly around him before taking her leave. As she exited, there was a hushed pause before chatter resumed. She shrugged, and made her way to the war room. She was in luck as both Josephine and Leliana were both still there, talking quietly. They asked her briefly how Cullen fared, before moving on to important matters.

 

It was later than she had realized by the time she was freed. She was starving. She wondered if Solas would be amenable to dinner before their chat. She ventured to the rotunda, but he was not to be found. She took a quick glance at the walls, somewhat surprised to see he had made no progress on the mural. He was always fiddling with paints when she had stopped by. Well, when she stopped by before she had started to avoid him, she thought guiltily.

He was not in the library either, though Dorian had given her some significant glance that she couldn't read. Why did all of the men in her life give her cryptic stares? They should just say what they meant to say, she thought irritably.

She really was starving.

She decided to check his rooms before giving it up as a lost cause and heading to supper. When she rapped on his door, though, she could hear him shuffling closer.

“Inquisitor,” he said in surprise as he opened the door.

She smiled at him uncertainly. “I was looking for you, Solas. I thought we might have dinner first before...uh, before we talk?”

“I did not think you would have time to converse this evening,” he said, his mouth pressed in a hard line.

“Why not?” she asked, puzzled.

“Because Ser Cullen is ill in your bed, at the moment.”

She flushed at how that sounded. “Listen, the man was sick. I couldn't force him to walk all the way to his quarters!”

“I....yes, you are correct of course, Inquisitor.”

He had never called her by her name. He always used some title to address her, as if putting yet another wall between them. She tried to ignore the prick of pain at her heart, and looked down the hallway.

“If you've the time, Solas, I would sup first,” she invited, stepping back from his door.

“I will join you shortly,” he said, nodding once before shutting the door once more. She waited – impatiently – and within moments he stepped out to meet her, dressed in his usual tunic and cloth pants, feet wrapped.

She hadn't quite given up her boots. The wraps tended to get her into some trouble. She tried not to think on those memories, though.

She once more pondered the similarities between Solas and that mysterious man she had met in her youth. She laughed softly to think of it now, and how she had dreamed to meet him once more. She doubted she might ever see him again. He could have died for all that she knew.

That thought struck her painfully, and she sucked in a harsh breath.

“Breathe, lethallan. What has wounded you?” Solas questioned softly as they passed through the stone hallways of her keep.

“Only memories.”

He did not remark on it further as they made their way to the dining hall. She silently went to her place at the head of the table, and Solas settled at her right. There were a few stragglers scattered about, the dining hour long past. She saw Varric at another table, but did not wave him over. He looked in deep conversation in any case.

She ate methodically, breads and cheeses and whatever meager vegetables that their piddling garden had been able to produce. A lot of tubers, she noted.

Solas was equally quiet, drinking wine and nibbling on a piece of bread.

Once finished, she pushed away her plate but did not climb to her feet. Instead, she turned her face towards Solas, the hearthlight behind her throwing a golden glow along his features.

He was beautiful, Ellana could admit. She wished many things were different between them. She wondered idly if he had those same desires, or if he was truly as indifferent as he appeared.

His kisses spoke otherwise, but she was not sure she trusted those. They had happened in the Fade, after all.

He met her stare silently. Challenging.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, and he knew immediately what she was talking about.

“I did,” he answered guardedly.

“I've never done anything like that before...on many levels,” she admitted.

He chucked as if unable to help himself. “I apologize,” he said, amusement still evident in his tone before he wiped it away. “The kiss was impulsive and...ill-considered. I should not have encouraged it.”

“You say that, but you're the one that started with tongue.”

“I did no such thing,” he said affronted.

“Oh? Does it only count if it's not Fade tongue?” she asked, deceptively light. He raised his hands in frustration before folding them once more on the table.

“It's been a long time, and things have always been easier for me in the Fade,” he admitted. “I'm not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble.”

“Trouble for who? You?” she scoffed, pushing her chair back from the table. She folded her leg across her knee, settling into the chair in the same unconscious manner as if she settled into her throne.

His face morphed into something uneasy.

“No. Yes.”

“Well, which is it?” she asked impatiently.

“Yes. For both of us. Who here would wish to see the famed Herald of Andraste and a apostate together?” he asked, and his fist clenched tightly on the table.

“Our friends, I'm sure. As for everyone else, you know I don't care what they think of me,” she answered, still casually reclined in her chair. She steepled her hands in front of her in deep thought.

“And that is short-sighted of you,” he retorted angrily. He heaved a sudden breath, his face flushed. He looked irritated and backed into a corner.

“I'm willing to take that chance, if you are,” she said, watching him calmly over her fingertips.

“I...maybe, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are...considerations,” he said, obviously flustered. Perhaps even happy, she thought, though it was muted. That his answer was vague was worrisome.

“Take all the time you need.”

She stood.

“Thank you,” he said abruptly, staring up at her now that she stood over him. “I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams. But I'm reasonably certain we are awake now.”

He lifted his hands in an aborted gesture, moving to stand. “If you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking.”

Solas sounded so plaintive that she almost caved in, wanted to lead him to his rooms to talk and...well, and kiss, maybe, if she could coax him into it. He was like a wild animal caged in human form, she thought. Distrustful, but longing for someone to share his life with. She wondered if she had it in her to tame him. If she even wanted him tame. It almost seemed...cruel.

It was too soon though. She needed some space.

“We'll talk later,” she promised, meeting his eyes. He was visibly disappointed, but nodded. “You know where to find me,” was all he said as he took his leave.

“That sounded intense,” came a voice behind her as she was watched Solas exit the dining hall.

“Were you spying, Varric?” she asked, still staring at the empty doorway. Had she made the right decision, she wondered. Was this doomed to end in misery for both sides?

“It's what I do,” he answered modestly.

Ellana wanted to get drunk. She wanted a good tumble or a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

She wasn't going to get the tumble because of Solas' indecision. She wasn't going to get a full night of sleep because she had a sick ex-Templar in her bed. So all that was left was getting blind, stinking drunk.

 “Care for a drink, my friend?” she asked, motioning in the general direction of the tavern.

“I thought you'd never ask,” he said happily, and led the way out.

 

Ellana was positive by now that the gods hated her. She awoke in a chair by the fireplace in the great hall, Varric's head pillowed in her lap as he lay slumped on the floor, a writing quill still clutched in his hand. Sheaves of paper littered the area at her feet, obviously his half scribbled ideas. She vaguely remembered both of them cackling at some ridiculous story they had made up on the fly.

Her back hurt. Her head was pounding. And she smelled like a brewery. Her vest was tacky with spilled grog, and she regretted every decision that led to this point.

She groaned like a dying deepstalker.

Varric swatted at her as he snuggled deeper into her lap, and the bristles of his stubble seemed to cut through her soft beige pants. She giggled, and then moaned at the resultant pain.

“Varric,” she whimpered, trying to prod him awake.

He stubbornly did not stir. She was sure it was on purpose.

“Varric,” she tried a little louder, and immediately tried to keep her dinner settled in her belly.

She had never felt so sick in her life. What had he given her? Deathroot ale if the flavor in her mouth was anything to go by.

“Maker, I feel like shit,” he finally grumbled as he tried to push himself upright. It didn't seem to work, as he slumped once more against her legs in defeat.

“I think...I think I'm going to die,” she whispered, holding her head like it was about to roll off her shoulders. Her belly felt equally unsteady.

“I think Bull knows a really good hangover cure,” he said hopefully, sliding down to lie prone on the floor.

That...actually looked really comfortable.

Tentatively, she moved to lay next to him, curled on her side on the cool stone floor. The fireplace had long since burned out, and it was startlingly cold.

It felt like heaven. She almost moaned in delight, but it would have set her head ringing so she bit the noise back.

As it was, they huddled miserably on the floor, exchanging consoling pats every so often. She could hear the rest of the castle begin to stir, but couldn't force herself to stand. Varric seemed to agree. Soon enough, he was snoring ferociously, and it sent rattles through her poor brain. She had to escape.

When one of the servants stopped by to quietly ask if she needed anything, Ellana begged her to wake Bull. He'd know what she needed. He had been there last night, toasting of her great undead-slaying deeds though strongly hinting that a dragon would be a much better opponent. She had found it all pretty amusing at the time.

Now, she just wanted to die in peace. She heard a rustle of the papers nearby, but didn't bother to turn over. Instead, she watched Varric's mouth gape open unattractively on the next loud snore. She debated whether stuffing a cloth in his mouth might smother some of that noise or just kill him.

“I don't want you to die, though,” she said, reaching over to touch his cheek. He didn't stir, though a whisper of noise alerted her that the other presence had left.

“Inquisitor!” Bull boomed from the front of the entrance hall, and Ellana was sure she had died and gone to hell. That was the only answer for this pain. She swore swift and brutal revenge in a hushed whisper as he laughed and launched her to her feet, folding her up in his massive arms. He carried her out into the barely dawning sunrise towards his rooms above the tavern, promising a cure that would put a chest on her chest.

 

When she had finally recovered, as had Varric and Cullen, it was time for her to set out again. This time she didn't bother trying to run away from her discomfort, and asked Solas if he would care to join her. His restrained relief still made her a little guilty though.

She roped Cole and Cassandra into joining the group when they were at dinner. Dorian faked disgruntlement, and Blackwall just smiled sadly. She reached into her vest pocket, and pulled out a small piece of ashwood. She handed it over a little shyly, and asked if Blackwall would make her a little totem for her mantle. He seemed in better spirits after that. She snickered a little at her pun, waving away Dorian's questioning look.

As they were preparing the mounts the next morning, Solas approached her with a quick glance under his brows. He looked a little expectantly at her.

She carefully arranged her expression to be politely inquiring. “Yes, Solas?”

She tried not to feel a little stab at pleasure at his slightly crestfallen look, before he too wiped his expression to cool friendliness.

“I would ask a boon of you, Inquisitor.”

She sighed, a little irritated. Score one for Solas. Would the man never use her name?

“You may ask me for anything, and if it is in my power to give it to you, I will,” she said plaintively as she stuffed her saddlebags.

He caught his breath for a moment, before clearing his throat gently. “I...I appreciate the sentiment. I heard a cry for help as I slept. I believe a friend of mine is in need of assistance.”

“A friend, Solas? Or a spirit?” she asked, lifting a brow in curiosity.

He looked at her dead in the face. “Both.”

“I see. In that case, my assistance is yours.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” he said, smiling. He stepped away to see to his own mount. Cassandra was studiously avoiding any appearance of eavesdropping, though a slight flush along her cheeks and a bitten lip told a story of their own.

“Ell-Inquisitor,” Cullen called, and she turned to him with a grin.

“Ellana is fine,” she said, pleasure glowing in her voice. Cullen flushed red to the tips of his rounded ears, which delighted her.

“It would be improper in front of the troops,” he admitted. “But perhaps in private, you would allow me the pleasure.”

“Of course,” she said, patting his forearm gauntlet. “What brings you to the courtyard this morning?”

He reached over to tighten one of the buckles on her saddle, and she murmured a quiet thanks. “Simply to see you off, Inquisitor,” he answered, his voice a little strangled. “And to say thank you for your...help...when I was ill.”

She threw her head back in a true laugh, pressing a hand to her belly. She looked at him, smiling broadly. “It certainly was a sight to behold. Working you out of your armor was quite an impossible feat,” she joked.

She didn't realize how that sounded until she heard Cassandra's choke. Ellana's eyes widened in belated understanding, and Cullen looked like he wasn't sure whether to sink into the ground or laugh.

She groaned, slapping a palm to her face. “Please forgive me, a terrible joke.”

“Ah, no, not, I mean, it's fine, I...yes, of course,” he finally stammered.

Ellana could hardly contain her giggles at the look on his face. She laughed, pushing his shoulder. “Leave, Ser Cullen, so that I may be on my way. You are too distracting this morn.”

A smile dawned, and now it was so sweet that she felt an answering smile twist her lips. “Good luck, and speedy return, Inquisitor.”

“Dareth shiral, as my people would say,” she said, darting a quick glance up at him.

“Dareth shiral, Ellana,” he repeated softly. His pronunciation left something to be desired, but his meaning was clear enough.

When she caught a glimpse of Solas' unhappy face, she wondered what she was doing. She had never been cruel before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left, smut pending. The rating will change just to be safe. More to come in this universe, I do so love these characters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gripped her tightly around the waist, bringing his mouth down sharply over hers. This was no gentle kiss in the Fade. This was mastery, a claiming. Ellana could only grip his leather belt, tugging him frantically closer while he slanted his mouth over hers, delving into the warmth of her mouth with his tongue.
> 
> Smut ahead, definitely some NSFW and adult langage.

Ellana was tense. She was nervous and uncomfortable, and in this situation was prone to jump ahead in battle before they had properly made a plan. It also meant she was going through healing potions at an alarming rate and Cassandra was getting irritated.

Fighting their way through the Exalted Plains was turning out to be harder than anticipated, and stress had her shoulders tight and locked for most the day.

It was with both relief and dread that they camped for the night. In the morning, they would approach the section along the coast that Solas had marked on the map where his friend was being held. Everyone was feeling pretty defeated by the time they turned in, and Cassandra offered to take first watch. Ellana gratefully accepted, and ducked into their shared tent.

Stripping down to to her smalls, she braved a bird bath to wash away the worst of the dirt, blood and gore from her body that she could, and with a heavy sigh, slid into her bedroll. But rest was long in coming, and when she finally fell into fitful sleep, she found herself in the Fade.

She knew who had brought her here.

Ellana wandered the forestscape of his dream, touching the soft petals of blooming flowers and listening to the crunch of the dense underbrush as she drifted through the trees. She wasn't surprised when Solas stepped out in front of her.

She felt like she could weep at seeing his visible upset.

“Lethallan, what have I done that you would forsake me with the Commander?” he asked, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He did not reach for her; indeed, he took a deliberate step back as she moved to stand in front of him.

She stopped. She looked him in the eye, because he deserved that respect.

“You have done nothing. It is my own discontent, I suppose, that causes this confusion,” Ellana admitted.

“Discontent? Have I not proved that I...have feelings for you?” He looked supremely discomfited.

She ran her hand through her hair, scrubbing at her scalp thoughtfully. How to explain when she couldn't even fathom the entire reason, she wondered.

“Do you know, Solas, that you have yet to call me by my name? Even here in the Fade?”

He jerked as if struck. “Names have power, especially here.”

“I don't believe that,” Ellana said bluntly. “I think you call me Inquisitor to put distance between us. To get close, but only on your terms. I have agreed to your request to let you think, and I do it gladly.”

“Then why the display with that shem?” he asked, and finally she could see the anger surge.

“He is the Commander of my Inquisition,” she said simply. “I could love him.”

He froze. She wasn't even sure he was breathing. “Do you trust me so little, then?”

“I trust you, Solas. But do you trust yourself?” She gentled her voice, as if soothing a wild animal.

He had no answer, none that she could read from his face. All she saw was conflicted desire.

“Until you can admit freely what your feelings are, I will take my comfort where I can. I don't do this to hurt you, hahren. I do it to protect my own heart.”

With a jerky wave of his hand, she woke.

 

They did not speak the next morning, and something in her broke. Something she wasn't sure he could fix, if she would even let him fix. He was running from her, and she had no way to reassure him that she was on his side. That she wanted him, but not at the cost of herself.

He did not even look at her, and the tension in the camp ratcheted up a notch.

She was sick over it, but also...well, she supposed she was proud of herself. This wasn't like before, where she pined over someone with no thought to her own heart. But now...now she had people who truly cared for her well-being.

With that, she put the thoughts from her mind. She had work to do here, and she couldn't endanger her friends.

“My heart beats so loud; our hearts beat as one, but I can't risk it, what if my strength fails me?” Cole whispered as he sidled up beside her. In deference to their talks, he was attempting to speak quietly. She wasn't entirely sure he was successful when she saw Solas' shoulders tense up. Ellana could only smile grimly.

“If we follow the shoreline, we should find what Solas is looking for,” Cassandra said, looking up from the map to shoot Ellana a quick look. She nodded in confirmation. They would head out as soon as they could.

 

It was...horrible. Charred remains, mages acting rashly. And rage, so much rage in Solas.

The spirit of Wisdom begged for release, and he gave it freely. But when he turned on the mages, there was no forgiveness, and even Cole, the spirit of Compassion, had none to offer.

She watched him destroy the mages and did not turn away because she had allowed it. It was her decision to shoulder. Cassandra retched at the smell of burning flesh, quickly moving out of range. Cole muttered to himself, not loud enough for Ellana to hear but she heard the low tones of Solas as he replied.

“I must leave. I will meet you at Skyhold when you return,” Solas said, stopping in front of her as he shouldered his pack. His voice was subdued, but she could read the ugly rage still simmering below the surface.

“Of course,” she said. She did not reach out to touch him, knowing that any touch, even in kindness, would only be torment. He would lash out even if he didn't mean it. “I will come to you as soon as I can.”

He nodded, and as he passed her, he turned his head, as if capturing one last glimpse of her face before he walked away.

 

While it was inconvenient having a smaller group, no one begrudged Solas his time. Ellana had wished she could escape a time or two. Cole was particularly helpful on this journey. He liked to torment Cassandra, which Ellana found absolutely riveting.

“Writhing, heated skin and silken kisses, rough burn of a beard on her thighs, could she ever get enough-”

“That is _more_ than enough, spirit,” Cassandra snapped, closing her book abruptly.

“The clack of bone teeth, tight grip, smooth face and warm lips, he won't let me fall-”

“Creators, Cole, don't you ever get tired of that?” Ellana asked, and she had to laugh at little at Cassandra's intrigued eyebrow raise in her direction.

“What was that? A book? A...” Cassandra trailed off knowingly.

Ellana blushed, and was definitely not in the mood to discuss her non-existent love life. Which of course meant she caved in immediately and told Cassandra everything.

“And _then_ , he tells me to wake up, and I'm alone in my bed, and it was just so strange so...”

“Ah, so that is why you avoided him,” Cassandra said, nodding sagely.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “We...made up, I guess. But we haven't moved forward.”

“He is so afraid of hurting you, petrified into immobility, focused on his goal but his thoughts are restless, unwilling to be swayed but so tempted to give in to something brighter.”

The two women turned to look at Cole who sat hunched over by the first, fiddling with the brim of his floppy hat.

“Ugh,” Cassandra finally groaned.

“ _Men_ ,” Ellana agreed.

They nodded in perfect understanding of each other.

“He argued that everyone would disapprove of our relationship,” Ellana said miserably. “He said I was misguided.”

“Ass,” Cassandra muttered. “Look, I do not think he is the best choice for you. I think Cullen would be much more suitable...and he's quite nice to look at,” she added helpfully.

Ellana could agree with this.

“But...if he is not the flame in your heart, it would be better to pursue the one you really want,” Cassandra finished with a sigh.

“What if the one I really want breaks my heart?” Ellana asked softly, staring into the fire.

“Strengthen walls, never recover, would I ever love again?” Cole asked, tipping his head forward into his hands.

Cassandra caught her breath.

“You said it, Cole,” Ellana agreed tiredly. “It's just such a mess. Why couldn't I love Cullen more?”

And there was nothing more to be said on the subject.

 

Cassandra was a pretty amazing friend, when it came right down to it. She didn't judge. She just tossed an X-rated book her way, and they spent the rest of their nights giggling when Cole recited their favorite passages aloud. He didn't quite understand at first, but by the end of their trip, he had figured most of it out. He promised he would not tell where he had learned these things.

When she caught sight of Cullen standing at the ramparts watching their return, she caught her breath in sudden distress. What if she had made the wrong choice? What if she should just let Solas return to the Fade, and she...she could just feel Cullen's warmth against her in the evenings.

She honestly wondered if she could have both for a second.

Cole shot her a scandalized look, and Cassandra looked like she desperately wished to know what Ellana was thinking, but knew better than to ask.

Damn. Oh well, worth a shot.

She and Cassandra walked the mounts to the stables as Cole disappeared into the tavern.

“What will you do first, Inquisitor?” Cassandra asked quietly, and Ellana tried to stop the sudden racing of her heart. Her breath came faster despite her attempt at calm.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you,” Cassandra said, eyes wide in distress.

“No, I'm being silly. It's certainly not the hardest decision I've had to make,” Ellana answered, eyes downcast.

Cassandra just hummed in reply, and the rest of their walk was made in silence. Ellana smiled happily when she saw Blackwall near the stables, and he greeted her warmly before he told her he had a gift for her. She handed her mount off to Master Dennet, and followed him up the steps to his quarters.

He carefully unwrapped the oiled cloth from the statue, and she gasped.

“It is so lifelike,” she whispered to Blackwall as she cradled the statue in her hand.

“You told me once you really enjoyed the forests of your homeland,” he said, standing with his arms folded, shifting his weight. “I couldn't think of any animals you liked, or I would have done that instead.”

“I hate bears,” she said absently as she turned over the carved tree in her hand, dusting a finger across the leaves in the arching branches, the thick gnarl of roots in the base.

Blackwall laughed a little. “Who doesn't?”

She grinned at him, reaching out and pulling him into a rough hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll treasure it always,” she said, words muffled into the soft padding of his armor.

He pulled gently free from her embrace. “Then I am glad, my lady.”

She flipped it around and around, and started towards the stairs. “I know just the spot for this beauty,” she murmured, stroking the burl of wood grain apparent in the trunk.

“Will we see you at dinner tonight, lady?” Blackwall called as he stowed away his oiling cloth.

“As long as I'm not pulled into Josephine's office for a stern lecture,” she joked as she bounded down the stairs.

A tiny cough interrupted his reply and Ellana almost skidded into Cullen at the foot of the stairs.

“Commander!” Ellana gasped, barely able to stop herself from toppling off the last few steps. He reached out to steady her instinctively, tugging her a little closer.

“I wanted to see how you fared, Inquisitor,” Cullen apologized as he slowly released her arm. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“No, I wasn't paying attention. Look at the beautiful statue Blackwall created for me,” she said, proudly hoisting the totem to eye level.

“Amazing work,” Cullen agreed, though he hardly glanced at the carving before meeting her eyes once more.

She swallowed heavily.

Blackwall didn't bother to respond, touching her shoulder briefly as he walked by her. “Tonight then, lady.”

Cullen's eyes narrowed as he turned to watch Blackwall stride away.

Shit.

“Dinner, Commander,” Ellana answered when he turned to face her with raised eyebrows. “In the dining hall with everyone,” she added quickly.

“Ah, I see. I was hoping to ask you the same thing,” Cullen said wistfully.

Ellana thought she was probably going to die from the blush staining her cheeks. Even her ears trembled. She still felt...conflicted. And guilty as hell about it.

Cullen seemed to take some pride in her blush, and stepped a little closer, raising his hand to briefly touch her face. His gloves were well-worn, softened from years of everyday use. She caught her breath when he touched the vallaslin under her left eye.

“I am grateful you have returned to us unharmed, Inquisitor,” he said, his lips curved with the barest hint of a smile. The flames of her blush burned hotly under his gaze.

He smirked at her like a rascal as he turned away. “I won't take up your time, I know there are many others who pine for you, Ellana,” he said as he made to leave.

Ellana blinked owlishly at his retreating back.

Fuck. Well then.

She cradled the tree to her chest as she made her way to her chambers, throwing a quick wave at Varric as she passed by. She hesitated for a moment before passing by the rotunda. She'd find Solas soon.

Ellana climbed the stairs, saw the hearthfire burning, and assumed on of the servants had seen her arrive. She threw her bag down, crossing over to her mantle, and started adjusting the tree this way and that, trying to find the best angle. The light from the window brought out the wood highlights, but hmm, would it bleach the wood?

She stood back, considering. Should it go in the center? To the side? She had a few trinkets from her journeys -- sparkly pieces of stone, an interesting texture of wood -- but where would it fit in?

“I would take offense if I didn't know you better, lethallan,” came a fond murmur behind Ellana.

She smothered a small shriek, spinning around to see Solas sitting in one of her chairs by the fire, a book held in his lap.

“Solas, you scared me,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.

He made her heart race for more than one reason, she thought, watching his eyes trail over her breast and hip. It looked as if he had come to a decision in any case.

He sat comfortably in her chair, the bone lashed around his neck the only adornment he allowed. The soft cloth of his tunic lay flush against the heart she desired, and she found herself jealous of a piece of cloth.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked, tilting his head back to meet her eyes.

“I was planning to come see you,” she acknowledged.

He stood, leading her out to the balcony, the mountains in the distance gleaming and cold in the sunlight.

“What were you like, before the anchor?” he asked, turning to meet her gaze as he lingered near the balustrade.

She lifted her hand, considering the mark on her palm.

“Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your...spirit?” He shifted, hand griping the stone behind his back. He was serious...almost sad, she thought.

“I don't believe so,” she answered, wanting to reach out but uncertain of her welcome.

“Ah.” He looked away in some distress.

“Why do you ask?”

“You show a wisdom I have not seen since...since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected.”

That didn't sound ominous at all, she thought woefully.

“What have I done that's so surprising?” She knew she had to tread this conversation carefully.

“You have shown subtly in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected.”

Ellana couldn't stop her wry smile. “Subtly? Me? It's like you don't even know me, Solas.”

“If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours...have I misjudged them?” He was visibly distressed now.

She stared at him. “The Dalish didn't make me like one thing or another, Solas. We all have choices to make.” She paused. “Well, the humans do seem to have it a little easier sometimes, but I mean, we're all practically human now anyways.”

His lips twisted in distaste.

“You are such a snob sometimes,” she laughed, pushing away from the balcony. She stared over the expanse of the mountains. “The world is as it is, we just have different faces over time. Leaders are raised upon their pedestals before dashed to the stone, and some just fall a little sooner. As long as it's not at Corypheus' hands, I'll be happy.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Did you think I'd really escape that fate?”

He did not answer, but moved to clasp his hands behind his back, standing up straight.

“I thought not.”

“You know much for one so young. Most people act with so little understanding for the world,” he said, and Ellana pretended not to notice how hoarse he sounded.

“I made foolish decisions when I was young, and learned from them,” she grinned. “I was quite a...wild child, I suppose you could call it.”

He brushed a hand over his head, smiling. “I would believe that,” he said, fondness evident in his tone.

They were quiet a moment longer, and she turned finally to face him once more.

“So what does this mean, Solas?”

“It means I have not forgotten the kiss.”

She caught her breath. Held it. Watched him as he watched her, his eyes so sharply blue as to pale the sky in comparison, and she felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. What magic did he hold over her to make her yearn for him so badly, she wondered.

She stepped forward, meeting his eyes. “Good,” she whispered and mimicked his posture, gripping her hands tightly behind her back as she stood so close as to feel his warmth. But she did not reach for him. Not this time.

He shook his head, backed away. If he ran, she would not follow, and he paused as if sensing the change. Knowing it would mean the end of everything between them if he could not answer her feelings honestly.

“It would be kinder in the long run.” He sounded strained. Frightened of his feelings. She didn't know how to help him understand that she would always stand beside him, but only if he let her.

Solas turned abruptly. “But losing you would...” His face was agonized, beautiful and painful to behold.

He gripped her tightly around the waist, bringing his mouth down sharply over hers. This was no gentle kiss in the Fade. This was mastery, a claiming. Ellana could only grip his leather belt, tugging him frantically closer while he slanted his mouth over hers, delving into the warmth of her mouth with his tongue.

He tasted of wine and root, of smoke from the hearth and the warmth of the sun. He was overwhelming and she could not tell where he ended and she began.

Ellana's heart thumped erratically as she opened her mouth, enticing him to venture further inside. He pressed his chest to hers, and she swore she could feel the blood thick and hot pumping through his veins. She freed her mouth with a gasp, desperate for breath but aching at the separation.

“Solas,” she sighed, pressing her face to his neck, nipping at the pulse pounding against her lips. He answered her with a bitten-off groan, the vibration of the noise sending shudders through her body.

“Need you,” she whispered, pressing tightly against him. She could feel the heat of his cock pressed to her belly, his hips twitching under her hands. She needed to touch him, hold him against her, over her, between her thighs, riding him to ecstasy.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” He made as if to pull away from her.

She gasped, body tight and broken. They beat as one heart.

“Don't go. Not again.”

His face, flushed with desire, grew pained. “I could not leave now even if I wanted to,” Solas finally answered, running a hand down her back soothingly. “I will stay.”

She reached up, touching his face. His cheeks. The dip in his chin. Stroked a finger across his lips.

And Ellana burned only for him.

She pulled his face down to meet hers once more, consumed in the fire. “Ma vhenan,” she mouthed against his, and he groaned. He pulled her tight against him again, no space between their bodies as he explored her mouth once more. He tongue stroked hers, learning the shape of her mouth, the sharpness of her teeth.

One day she would know his taste so perfectly she would be able to pick him out of a room blindfolded, she promised. She might have spoken that out loud, because he smothered a laugh against her cheek.

“I should hope my lips are the only ones you taste, Ellana.”

She shivered so hard he pulled away to look at her in concern.

“That's the first time you've ever said my name,” she whispered.

He parted his lips, but he did not speak. There were no words. There was only his mouth on hers as he slowly backed her into the bedroom, breaking away only to close the balcony doors behind them.

Solas led her to the bed, trailing those long, slender fingers down her neck, over her breast. Fingering the buttons on her ugly beige tunic. She dimly wondered if Josephine would be angry if she had to order another made because Ellana ripped all the buttons off in her haste to disrobe. But as it was, he took his time.

Solas dusted gentle kisses across her mouth before dipping his head, lingering against her neck. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of her warmth, nipping at the skin above the high collar of her tunic.

“You drive me the the brink of madness, vhenan,” he said, lips barely brushing against her skin with each syllable.

“As you do me,” she answered, a breathless laugh coloring her words.

“I have burned on our journeys, watching you politic and kill with equal skill.” His fingertips ghosted up her forearms, over her shoulders, before tugging at the button at her throat. He unclasped it, dragging the moment on until Ellana thought she might scream her frustration.

Ellana raised her hands, encircling his wrists as Solas coaxed each button open. Tasting her, teasing her as he trailed his lips over each patch of skin revealed. His hands, callused fingertips and palms, scrapped pleasantly across her breasts and waist as he parted her jacket, smoothing it away from her shoulders. It dropped to the floor with a whisper.

She stood before him, still clad in her pants and boots, but his eyes burned as he watched her in the firelight. His expression was fierce with longing. Her nipples tightened under her bindings, a shudder of desire rippling through her.

She reached for his tunic, tugging gently. She wanted it off, to see the smoothness of his skin. Solas only smiled indulgently, brushing her hands aside and continuing on his journey.

He gripped her hips as she held onto his shoulders, pulling her closer, rocking her roughly against his cock. He slid a leg between hers, pressing firmly against her core, the bite of the seam of her pants not nearly enough friction.

She whimpered. “Please, Solas, more,” she begged as buried her face into his chest, grinding down on his thigh eagerly.

“What do you need, vhenan?” he asked, his voice as low and smooth as a physical caress.

“Let me see you,” she whispered, tugging once more at the hem of his tunic.

He pulled away from her, finally yanking his necklace and tunic over his head, tossing them away carelessly. The clatter of the bone necklace seemed so far away as she drank in her fill.

He was like a god recreated, she thought. Smooth skin, taut muscles that his leanness hid from others. He could hold her against the wall and never lose his grip, she bet.

She was still partially dressed so she quickly kicked of her shoes, and shimmied out of her pants and smallclothes. He was still unwrapping his foot wraps when she pushed him onto the bed, unwinding them completely herself.

He lay quiescent beneath her hands as she rubbed her palms over his legs. Sparse, soft dark hair tickled her hands. She massaged his thighs, leaning down to nibble at a small freckle near his knee. She stood at the edge of the bed, slipping between his knees.

“Ellana, you torment me,” he panted, legs tight with tension. He held his hands to his side, though they twitched with visible need.

“Let me,” she breathed against his hip.

“I can deny you nothing.”

She smiled against his flesh. “Best you remember you said that, my love.”

He shuddered, whether at her words or the warmth of her mouth as she wrapped it tightly around his cock was anyone's guess. She mapped his flesh with mouth and hand, learning what made him moan, made him buck desperately into her mouth, snap his hips up with a feral growl.

She traced the flat of her tongue under the head of his cock, drinking in each response. He clenched tight as she swallowed him down as much as she could take, wrapping her hand around the rest of his heated skin. She tucked her teeth behind her lips, bobbing her head once, twice.

Solas tempered his thrusts, but Ellana wanted him as wild for her as she was for him. She hummed around his length, pleasure licking up her spine as he rumbled in Elven she didn't quite recognize. He finally reached out, carding his fingers through her hair, gathering it at the base of her neck.

He traced his fingers down her hollowed cheeks reverently.

She suckled at him a moment more before opening her mouth wider, stroking his hips encouragingly. He groaned in relief, holding her head still as he began to thrust. Shallowly at first, then more deeply, and she could only hold still in his grip, saliva dripping from her mouth and chin, raking her nails down his thighs before she gripped the base of his cock, and he finally gasped and flooded her mouth.

She swallowed his seed, standing on slightly shaking legs and wiping a hand across her chin while he lay limply beneath her.

“I...had not intended to come that way,” he panted, his body lax against her sheets.

She grinned. “Hold that thought,” she said, hopping off the bed to wash out her mouth while he recovered himself.

When she returned, he had pulled the covers back and slid between the sheets, propped up on one elbow while he watched her.

Ellana smiled, sliding across the bed and into his arms. Her pleasure had faded in the face of his, but she could feel the simmering. It would not take much to encourage the flame.

He reached for her and she sprawled on her back, watching as he hovered over her, his eyes trailing from hers down her breasts.

She was not a large woman – most of their people were not - small of breast and hip, thin legs and spindly arms. He made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“What are you thinking, emma lath?” Solas whispered, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his mouth to her breast, He flicked his tongue against her nipple, teasing it with a warm puff of air as it puckered under his regard. His fingers twitched and she shivered at the cold flare of his magic, bowing her back when he tweaked her nipple playfully.

“I'm thinking you're a fucking tease,” she growled, scritching her nails against his scalp. He almost purred in his pleasure.

“I suppose I am,” Solas chuckled, “yet watching the pleasure you take from my touch is an addiction.” He ran a hand down her side, gripping her hip as he laved the neglected nipple his tongue.

“Yes,” she hissed as he treated it to the same play, twisting a little harder. She writhed at the burn of pleasure.

“You enjoy a little pain with your pleasure, vhenan?” he murmured appreciatively, nipping at the soft skin under the curve of her breast.

She nodded, digging her nails into his shoulder as he moved down her body, placing careful bites and sucks over her belly.

Ellana panted in anticipation as he hovered above the crease of her thigh, licking at the skin there like it was one of the sweet cakes he so enjoyed. The sudden hard bite to the meat of her thigh made her twitch almost violently, a wash of pleasure flooding her veins in the aftermath.

The tips of his fingers rested against her thigh. The warmth of his breath sent shivers across her skin. “Your indomitable focus has always been a sight to behold.”

“Indomitable focus?” she wondered hazily, flicking the tip of his ear gently. He raised his head, his eyes dark with desire, lips damp and flushed from lavishing praise across her body.

“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that sight would be...fascinating,” he purred.

Oh. Fuck.

Whatever expression was on her face sent shadows racing across his, pupils blown wide.

“Shall I tie you to this bed?” he asked, moving lower between her thighs. He shifted his shoulders, palms forcing her center open to his gaze, thighs braced apart by his hands. The bite mark he had left in his wake drew her attention and she shuddered.

“I have a rope I wove just for that purpose, though I never dreamed you would allow me to use it. I worked on it during the long evenings of our journey together, Inquisitor. I imagined your face flushed in desire and shame, tied down to a stake in your tent, knowing that all of your companions would hear your cries of pleasure.”

Ellana gasped, unconsciously raising her hands above her head to brush against the headboard, wrists pressed together in pantomime of his words.

His impossibly blue eyes were as dark as night in his passion and he held tight to her thighs. She could feel the depression of his fingers, knew she would have bruises and gloried in the feeling of being held securely to the bed underneath him.

“Yes,” Solas gritted out huskily, “I would take you over and over, twining the rope across your breasts, holding your legs open, exposing you. Every time I thrust into you, I would be drenched in your desire.”

She tried to writhe against him, silently begging for his mouth to lower to her flesh, but he had not moved. She could feel the dampness against her thigh, sliding down the smooth lips between her legs. He watched avidly, his eyes tracing how his words affected her.

“You would be held fast to my will, and I would take you as often as your body could hold mine. I would have you howl your pleasure to your gods.”

She bit her lip roughly, hands still clasped overhead, but she could not move her hips.

“I would take you in every way imaginable. I have seen many things in the Fade, things that would shock you, I think. I would teach you to love every touch, every caress, every depraved thing you think you would not be capable of doing.”

Ellana wanted to close her eyes but could not look away, captured by his gaze as he hovered above the apex of her thighs, his eyes feverish in the hearthlight. Her flesh quivered like she ached to flee, and she had never felt so exposed. Vulnerable to him.

“I would kill anyone who threatened to take you from me,” Solas said, and finally lowered his mouth to her core, lapping hungrily at her arousal.

She tried to hold back her cries but he reached up a hand, twisting a nipple in silent reprimand, and she let go of a long moan, gripping the sheet in tight fists.

His tongue and lips drove her higher, rolling in a wave against her clit. He thrust his tongue inside of her, a pantomime of what he would do with this cock, withdrawing only to surge back inside. She trembled, panting with a fever that begged to be slaked.

“Solas,” she cried, and he replaced his tongue with his fingers, first one and then sliding in a second when he realized how ready she was. He flicked his tongue against the small bud of nerves instead, mouthing words and tracing runes.

His fingers suddenly chilled, the icy sensation sending a jolt through her legs. She arched, crying out, trying to pull away, but he tutted under his breath and slid his tongue alongside his fingers. She trembled, wanting to reach for him but she could not lower her hands.

He hummed his pleasure in her response, withdrawing his fingers and she practically wailed at the loss.

“Solas, darling, please, _please_ ,” she sobbed, and she almost lifted her hands away from the headboard, but he raised his head to bare his teeth at her.

Ellana obediently placed them back against the bed, quivering in barely-restrained torment.

“You beg so prettily, my Inquisitor,” he murmured, nuzzling against her cunt in satisfaction. “You deserve a reward, don't you?”

He briefly dipped his fingers back into the warmth of her core before his fingers drifted down over the sensitive globes of her buttocks, sliding between them.

She tightened, hesitant, and he paused, lifting his head to meet her eyes.

“Breathe, vhenan,” he soothed. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” she said, and tried to spread her thighs a little further. He smiled, eyes gleaming in pleasure.

“Ever do you amaze me, da'len,” he said softly, lowering his eyes to watch his fingers as they explored her.

She had never...but pleasure suffused her, cheeks flaming with color as he stroked the sensitive skin, circling the bud with the tip of one of his fingers.

“Solas,” she cried out as he finally lowered his mouth once more, one hand still teasing her.

Ellana could hear the wet sounds of her pleasure, saw the glittering moisture against his cheeks and chin as he moved between her legs, and a shot of pure sensation set fire to her nerves. Her legs trembled and she raised her knees, almost unable to stop herself from reaching down to grip his head, to writhe against the faint burn of the whiskers beginning to dust his chin.

He lifted one of her legs, sliding it over one of his shoulders, tongue and mouth busily lapping at the slick of her core.

He reluctantly pulled his other hand away from the sensitive bud between her buttocks, the tingling left in his wake sending almost violent shudders through her. But when he stroked the petal soft lips between her legs, curving the long, deft fingers she had so admired back inside of her, she wailed.

Ellana fractured in pleasure, coming with a long moan as his fingers pressed deep inside of her, and she clenched down on the digits with the spasms of her orgasm.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he whispered again as he pressed a small kiss against her thigh, riding the waves of her pleasure until only small tremors shook her body.

“My love,” she sighed happily, fumbling for him. He obliged her, moving to gather her in his arms as he lay beside her in brief respite.

“Your voice. Your words,” she laughed shakily, pressing a kiss to his collar. “It should be outlawed.”

“Did you enjoy them, Ellana?” he asked, his hand stroking the hair away from her face gently. She could smell the musk of sex on his fingers, and she licked at the digit playfully. He drew in a sharp breath, watching her, the glint of her pleasure still on his cheeks. Ellana flushed in both embarrassment and arousal, though Solas didn't seem disturbed by it.

“Oh, I mean, it was okay,” she said, biting her lip to hide her amusement as he paused in his ministrations to tug sharply on a lock of hair.

She flicked her eyes upward, and his scowl melted away.

“Although, we should probably talk about your murderous intent towards others,” she said, nipping at his shoulder when he shrugged indolently.

“I'd rather not, if you please,” he replied, carding his fingers through her hair once more. His other hand smoothed her shoulder in long, gentle strokes.

“You can avoid it all you want, but please, no killing in real life,” she said, and dropped the subject. For now, at least.

“Think you'll be ready for round two soon, hahren?” she asked, a deliberately innocent smile aimed his way as she surveyed all of that bare expanse of skin at her disposal.

He flipped her over, capturing her hands in one of his above her head. “You are in need of discipline, da'len. And I know just how to teach you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND YES, THEY MISSED DINNER.
> 
> And that's all she wrote for this set of chapters in this universe! If you've subscribed, I appreciate it! I'm planning a few one-shots to follow. 
> 
> As always, I love feedback.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated! You can find me on Tumblr under "myzticbean".


End file.
